


Dean Winchester is a Mentula

by mabrkbc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, High School, High School AU, Hitmen, I have no idea what to tag because idk where this is going, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Latin, Private Investigators, Teenagers, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabrkbc/pseuds/mabrkbc
Summary: (this is a rough summary because I just started writing this and have no idea what I'm doin with it)You've just started at a new school after moving to a new town with your dad. When you go in to register, you find Dean and Sam Winchester also registering. You and Dean have one class together, Latin, and you quickly discover that although he's beautiful, he's also a dick. (Mentula in Latin) Slowly though, as you get to know Sam, Dean grows on you. Which is good, because the three of you are going to need to stick together.https://swee.ps/ORqxL_dkomzFs
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

I look up at the front of my new school from where I’m standing. _Eliot Collegiate Institute_. From the website, I know that grades nine to twelve attend here, they have approximately two hundred students, and the principal’s name is Anderson. My dad honks his car horn behind me, reminding me he’s still here. I look over my shoulder and give him a wave before he drives off. Sighing, I hike my backpack up on my shoulder and trudge into the small school. It’s not the smallest I’ve ever been to, but it’s up there.

Entering the front office reveals very few people. I only saw a handful of students on my way in and now the office is completely empty. There’s a handful of chairs against the wall opposite what I assume is the secretary’s desk, so I take a seat and wait for someone to show up.

A few minutes later, two other students enter, but there is still no sign of a staff member. The older one sighs while the younger one shrugs at him.

“It’s early Dean, let’s just wait,” he says in a voice that’s much higher than I expected. ‘Dean’ rolls his eyes, but sits down next to the kid, which, incidentally, is also next to me. Being this close gives me time to really take him in and it’s wonderful. His blond hair and green eyes are beautiful, but it’s the freckles and the lips that complete the masterpiece. His eyes are incredibly expressive, but his freckles cover his face like constellations in a way I’ve never seen before and his lips look soft and full, even as he bites down on the bottom. He turns his head and looks me up and down in a similar manner to what I’ve been doing.

His face morphs into a handsome smirk and he winks at me. “Heya, sweetheart. Any chance you know who we need to be talkin’ to about getting registered here?”

I shake my head. “I’m trying to do the same thing, sorry. I’ve been in here a few minutes and so far, no one.” Dean groans and flops his head back, slumping in the chair. The kid next to him nudges him.

“Dean, c’mon, this always happens, and you always complain,” the kid says. He then looks up at me with a bright smile. “Sorry. So, this is Dean, my older brother, and I’m Sam.” He holds his hand out for me to shake. I smile right back at him.

“Hi Sam, I’m Serene. Y’all new here too?” Sam nods.

“Just got here last night, but we’ve been to this school before. Well, Dean has. I was at the middle school down the street. But we probably won’t be here that long.” Sam’s face seems to fall when he says that, and Dean sits up.

“Sammy,” he groans. “Dad said we’d probably finish out the year here, okay? Just – let it go for now.” Sam pouts and turns away.

Thankfully, the secretary and who must be the principal enter the office when the conversation ends, saving me from any awkwardness. The secretary smiles at me and motions for me to come talk to her when I stand up. The principal turns to the boys. “Winchester, you’ve come back to us,” he says in a tone I can’t read. Dean smirks and nods, while Sam stands immediately to shake Mr. Anderson’s hand.

“Ms. Waters?” The secretary prompts after trying to get my attention. I shake my head slightly, blinking a few times, and look back at her. She smiles and hands me some paperwork to fill out. I’ve already given her the forms my dad printed off the school website to confirm my enrollment, but still have to give our contact information and choose my classes. Since it’s a small school, my options are very limited.

When I give back my sheet, I have four classes chosen in each term. English, Latin, Mathematics, and Phys. Ed this term, and Biology, Chemistry, History, and French in the second one. I want to be able to help my dad with his work but still keep my options open for college or university if I get the opportunity. Hence the Latin and French classes for a language boost and the extra science class. To help my dad, I probably only really need the biology, but chemistry may come in handy as well.

The secretary, whose name is Ms. Carriere, takes my filled-out sheet and starts typing. The first bell rings, signalling first class. Sam Winchester all but runs from the principal’s office out into the hall, hoping to get to his class on time, I assume. I smile to myself, remembering when I was still that excited about school. I’m not quite so enthralled with it anymore, although I am well aware of its benefits and uses. School has never had more to offer me than learning due to my constant moving. Being the new kid, every year isn’t the best way to make friends or be involved in things. So, my dad and I team up. I help him with work, he helps me with school if needed, and we help each other not be lonely. It’s a little lonely, but it works.

Except during times he has to be away for work. Then, there’s not much to be done. At least this time we were able to get somewhat settled into the slightly nicer hotel suite we were able to find on short notice before he had to take off. Last time we had to move so quickly, I had to tell the school my current address was a motel room, with no hope of it changing anytime soon, and beg for school supplies because I had none. Social services and I were very well acquainted in that town.

Things will be different here. We have to tell ourselves that. Before Dad left this morning, he kissed my forehead and promised to be back as soon as he could to find an apartment or house to rent for the time being, and then take a break from work for a while. Of course, my definition of a while and his definition are quite different, but I’ll take whatever I can get. I’d be a fool not to at this point, not after seeing how dangerous my dad’s job is firsthand.

I’m very surprised when I enter my Latin class that afternoon and see Dean Winchester sitting at one of the back desks. There’s only a handful of students in the room, which isn’t surprising, but he is. He has no books, no backpack, not even a pen, and I got the impression this morning that school isn’t exactly a priority for him like it seems to be for his brother. So, I’m not quite sure what to make of the other new kid.

My curiosity peaked, I take a seat next to him, catching his attention. I smile politely at him and pull out a fresh notebook specifically for this class. Other classes may blend together after a while, but Latin is important.

“Psst,” Dean hisses at me with a smirk. I roll my eyes and look at him. “Serene, right?”

“Yup. Dean?” He nods. “Nice to meet you,” I say and turn back to face the front. The teacher is just walking in and getting settled, a woman named Ms. Smart (which I definitely did not laugh at when I saw it the first time).

I hear him groan. “Can I have some paper? And borrow a pencil or something?” I sigh and rip out a few pages of loose-leaf and hand them to him before pulling an extra pen out of my backpack for him.

“You know, if you came prepared for school, this would go a lot easier,” I say. “Not like you didn’t know you’d be here.”

He shoots me a cocky, but beautiful, grin. “Sweetheart, I won’t be here long enough for it to matter. Only reason I asked is ‘cause I think Latin is actually interesting and kinda useful. The rest of the shit they make us pretend to care about is fucking useless.”

Someone clears their throat above us. Ms. Smart is standing there with what looks like a class syllabus for each of us and some homework to catch up. She’s looking at Dean like he’s going to make her life very difficult. “Mr. Winchester, I assume?” Dean gives her the same cocky grin.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Watch your language in my classroom, Mr. Winchester. I will only tolerate swear words if they are in Latin.” His eyes light up when she says that, as though she’s just invented Latin swear words. She turns to me. “Ms. Waters?”

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you,” I say politely. Behind Ms. Smart I see Dean roll his eyes. She smiles at me.

“You as well. I’ve seen your transcript and read some comments from your past Latin teachers, and I have to warn you, this class may not be as challenging as you’re used to. However, I am currently working on a Master’s in Latin and so could offer you additional or different work if you would like.” She puts a syllabus down on my desk and on Dean’s, with her email written at the top of mine. She then walks back to the front of the room to start class.

“Oh, God, you’re a nerd, aren’t you,” Dean groans softly, looking horrified. “Sweetheart, you disappoint me. I thought someone as beautiful as you must be cool.”

“Alright, first of all, it’s _Selene_ not _sweetheart_ ,” I snap back, just as quiet. “Second, go fuck yourself, Winchester. You know nothing about me.” He sits back, surprised at my outburst. Just to spite him, I add under my breath, “ _mentula_.” It’s Latin for dick, or as close as it gets.

Dean laughs under his breath, surprised. “Wow, you really do know your Latin, _cūlī_.”

I huff and tune into what Ms. Smart is saying. Screw him.

By the end of the class, it’s clear that she was right about the class not being challenging enough. It will be good practice, though, and it never hurts to practice. I do tell her on my way out that I will take her up on the offer of additional, harder work. I’m floored when Dean asks her for the same thing and turn around with my mouth gaping. Ms. Smart isn’t much better, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Mr. Winchester, are you sure? It’s significantly more difficult than this class is.”

He snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure, teach. My uncle Bobby’s fluent and he’s been teachin’ me an’ Sammy for years. Swear to God.” For added effect, he crosses his hand over his heart. I frown, suddenly very confused about who Dean actually is and why his uncle would see fit to teach the boys Latin of all things. He notices me staring at him and winks.

Nope. I turn around and walk out, deciding he’s not interesting enough to put up with his shitty attempts at flirting. I head outside, pulling on my jacket as I walk, trying to remember how far the apartment is from the school. I’m so busy thinking that I almost bowl over Sam Winchester as he waits for his brother in the hallway.

“Oh God, sorry kid,” I say, straightening him when he stumbles. “Oh, hey, Sam, right?”

He smiles brightly at me. “Yeah, you’re Serene right?”

“Sure am. How was your first day? Grade…nine?” I smile back at him, genuinely interested in the answer despite not knowing him at all. He’s a sweet kid, quite obviously wears his heart on his sleeve, and really cares about his education, which I respect.

“Yeah, third first day of grade nine,” he mumbles, eyes suddenly downcast. “But we got to dissect a frog in my science class today and it was so cool, the legs were twitching a lot because of the nerve system which was pretty gross, but my partner thought it was evil to cut open an already dead frog so I got to do it all by myself which I’ve never done before,” he says in one breath, excitement building up again.

“Sammy!”

Sam and I both turn to see Dean not far behind us. We’ve continued walking out of the school as we talked, but we stop to wait for Dean to catch up now. I turn back to Sam with a smile. “I’m glad you had a good day, kiddo. I’ll, uh, see you around, Sam.” I nod to Dean as he approaches us and start down the sidewalk in the direction of the hotel.

I take out a pair of headphones and plug them into my phone to listen to music on my walk. Foreigner immediately starts playing when I hit shuffle and the walk goes much faster with music distracting me. When I reach the hotel parking lot, I realize I’m not alone. The footsteps are a little way back, but they’re definitely there and trying to be subtle. I wait until I get within camera range to flip around and confront the stalker only to be met with the Winchester’s faces, _again_.

Dean and I groan at the same time. “What are you doing here?” I ask. “Why are you following me?”

Sam looks confused. “Following you?”

I gesture to the hotel. “Yeah. Why else would you come here? What’s your problem?”

Dean snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key that looks identical to mine. “Guess we have the same taste in temporary homes.”

“Oh,” I say, glancing at the ground. “Sorry. Just thought – you know what, never mind. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Thinking it’s over, I turn around to head into my room, but Dean catches my wrist.

“Thought what,” he asks suspiciously, looking me over for some kind of threat. I narrow my eyes back at him.

“That you were some sort of creepy stalker coming to kill or rape me, dumbass,” I snap. “God, what did you think I was referring to?” I hope to God he can’t feel my pulse from where he’s holding my wrist because my heart is going a million miles a minute. Sam steps forward.

“Dean…”

“Go in the room, Sammy,” Dean growls. Sam hesitates, looking between Dean and I, before taking the offered key and leaving us in the parking lot alone. “Start talking. What did you think was happening?”

I rip my hand out of his grip and get in his face. “It’s none of your business. Forget I said anything and fucking leave me alone.” I back up a step before turning around. On second thought, “Oh, Dean? Grab me like that again and I’ll break your fucking arm.” With that, I leave him in the parking lot gaping at me. When I get my door open and stumble inside, I’m shaking. I immediately slide down to the floor and crumble into tears. I don’t know how much long I can live like this, constantly looking over my shoulder.

I hope Dad comes home soon.


	2. Chapter 2

_They say hindsight is 20/20 and boy are they right. Looking back, it’s so easy to spot the warning signs, the ones that all point to danger. It started with the beautiful girls who wanted to be friends with the new girl before they even met her._

_The first day started as it always does. My dad drops me off thirty minutes before school actually starts so that I have time to talk to any administrators and get my schedule figured out. This time around, we actually had time to call ahead so we hoped they were prepared for me. When I entered the school, I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that they were ready. The secretary was already at her desk and greeted me with a smile. “Sabrina McCallister?” I nod, smiling back at her. She hands me my schedule for the semester and a couple forms to fill out with our updated address and emergency information._

_I walk out of the office before the first bell even rings to find a trio of beautiful, blonde, probable cheerleaders waiting for me. The one closest to me nudges the other two when she sees me, and they all beam at me. I look at them warily, more nervous to be around them than I am about anything else in my life – and I’ve dealt with a lot of criminals._

_“Sabrina!” Blonde-blue eye girl squeals. “Oh my god, we are so excited to meet you! We_ never _get any new kids here and when the principal told us there was a new girl coming and she would be in our grade and have a lot of the same classes, we were super excited! It’s such a small place, we never meet anyone new, but you’re kind of the topic of the week! Everyone wants to know you, but we volunteered first, so we get to show you around!” Everything she says seems to come out in one breath and it’s immediately overwhelming. I nod and smile, not sure what to say. “Great! I’m Brenna, this is Callie and Nadia.” She points to each of the girls in turn and I know it’s going to take me some time to remember which is which. My only clue is they each have different eye colours. Brenna is blue, Callie is green, and Nadia is some kind of hazel grey. Brenna loops her arm through mine and starts to lead me through the school._

 _They show me the lockers, the gymnasium, the lunchroom, where each classroom I’d need to get to is, the bathrooms, and made sure I knew who the cool teachers were, which boys to avoid (“Seriously, Sab, you have_ no _idea, the boys here are such tools. I swear to god, high school boys are just not ready to date,” Brenna groans. At some point, she dubbed me Sab, apparently deciding my name was too long for her.), and where the so-called losers hung out. When the first bell finally did ring, Nadia spoke for the first time since meeting._

_“Sab, I think you have English with me first. Want to go now and I’ll introduce you to Matheson?” I nod, and we say goodbye to the other girls before heading up the stairs to the second floor. “Sorry about Brenna, she gets over-excited about a lot of things. We really haven’t had any new students since we were in probably fourth grade or so. It’s super boring here.”_

_I laugh a little. “It’s okay, it’s kind of nice to have a welcoming committee. I’ve been to a lot of schools, honestly, and most times people don’t care about the new kid. I’m either a nuisance or someone that’s there to steal everyone’s boyfriends. There’s not much in between.”_

_Nadia laughs with me as we walk into the classroom. She introduces me to Mr. Matheson, who, thankfully, doesn’t feel the need to humiliate me in front of everyone with the standard_ where are you from, tell us a little bit about you _bullshit._

_The day progresses like that, and I have at least one of the three girls in each of my classes, making it a little easier to settle in. I don’t know if I particularly like them yet, but it’s nice to see a friendly, familiar face. And when my dad picks me up at the end of the day, I greet him with a smile._

_“Good day?” he smiles back at me as I get into the car._

_“Yeah, as first days go. They had a welcoming committee all planned out for me, and each of the girls was in one of my classes which made it easy to get around. How was work?”_

_“Well, we sure have our work cut out for us here, that’s been made damn clear. The cops around here don’t know their heads from their asses so we’re on our own,” Dad complains, but I know he doesn’t mind. We work better alone anyways. Always have._

Someone is knocking at the door. “Go away,” I murmur from where I’m sitting against the wall. I’m still curled into a ball, unable to move. The tears have long since stopped, but I’m still stuck here. The knocking hesitates and then starts up again, more insistent this time.

“Sweetheart, I know how to pick a lock. I’m coming in there at some point.” My breath catches in my throat and I sob. Dean. He continues to knock for thirty more seconds before he stops and I can hear slight scratching after, the telltale sign of a lockpick.

“Dean,” I croak out, then cough and try again. “Dean, stop. Just – just go away. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say anything, but the scratching continues, and my panic starts to build again. “Dean, I’m serious. Don’t fucking come in here.” Nothing. I reach for my backpack and fumble with the zipper, desperately trying to find my pocketknife, really anything I could use to defend myself.

When he gets the door open, I expect it to slam. Instead, he opens it gently, seemingly trying not to freak me out too much. “Serene,” he says. “I’m here to help.”

I’m shaking but I push myself to my feet, knife in front of me. “St-stay back. Get _out_ and go home. Just…leave me alone.” I ignore the cracks in my voice when I talk and hope he does too.

Dean enters the room fully and closes the door behind him. He looks at me with concern in his eyes and holds his hands up, keeping them where I can see them. “Look, sweetheart – “

I growl at him, panic be damned. “Call me sweetheart one more time, Winchester, and you’re going to wish you left well enough alone,” I snap, furious. “What the fuck do you think you are doing in here?” He has the decency to look a little ashamed and rubs one hand through his hair sheepishly.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you out there, but when I came up here, I could hear you crying. Thought maybe you needed someone to help.” I glower at him and take a step forward, still brandishing the knife.

“I don’t need a goddamn thing from you except to be left the fuck alone, got it? I made an error earlier, that’s all. Get. Out.”

He doesn’t. Instead, his hands start to lower, and he glances around the room, seeing the various weapons laid out. He snorts, almost smiling, and looks back at me. “You a hunter?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “A…hunter? Um, no, I don’t make a habit of shooting baby deer for fun, thank you very much.” He rolls his eyes at my comment and moves across the room to the kitchen table, where I have a few guns laid out to be cleaned. He looks back up at me, a challenge on his face.

“So, if I were to ask you why you had all these guns…”

“I’d tell you it was none of your business,” I snap. I’m starting to get really frustrated with him, and starting to wish I’d just stabbed him when he broke in just to be done with it.

He sits down in one of the kitchen chairs and swings his feet up to rest on the table, crossing his legs, looking for all the world like he’s as relaxed as can be. “Serene, we both know you’re hiding something. I’m already in here, might as well spill. I’m gonna find out one way or another.”

I scoff, and open my mouth to retort, but my phone rings. _Dad_. I glare at Dean, warning him not to say anything. “Hey, Dad.”

_“Hey, kiddo, how was school?_ ”

“It was good, just another school, you know. Any, um, luck?” I ask, eyes darting to Dean, hoping he doesn’t pick up too much of the conversation.

_“I have a lead but it’s only for half the family. The other half is still in the wind. I called an old friend from the army for some help and extra eyes, but it’s gonna be a while, I think. Door locked?”_

“Yep, been locked since I got home from school.” I level a very pointed glare at Dean with this comment, to which he just shrugs, uncaring.

“ _Knife?_ ”

“In my backpack, like always. The guns are out to be cleaned and then they’ll be in the usual places. I have everything else set up, just like always. I’m fine, Dad.” Dean has taken his feet off the table to lean forward, soaking in all the information I’m indirectly spilling.

_“I know this is hard, baby, but I can’t take any chances. You’re everything I have_ …”

“And everything to me,” I finish. “I know. I love you too. Just, be safe okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

“ _I’ll do my best. Love you kiddo_.” The line goes dead.

“So,” Dean drawls, looking smug. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that your name isn’t actually Serene Waters.” I look back at him alarmed. How did he get that out of the conversation?

“You’d be wrong,” I snap, finally putting the knife down. I run both my hands over my face, trying to figure out what is safe to share and what isn’t. Finally, I look back at him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you in a motel? Sounded this morning like you’ve been here a few times.” Dean stiffens and stands up. He stalks closer to me, clearly trying to intimidate me but I’m not backing down.

“That’s none of your business,” he bites out, glaring at me.

“Huh, I could’ve sworn I said the same thing to you yet…here you stand. Still asking me about _my business_.”

He takes another step towards me, crowding me into the wall. “Listen, sweetheart. You act like something’s coming after you, you carry a switchblade in your backpack, and you have more guns in this room than the entire police force here probably does. You’re tangled up in something dangerous and I have someone to protect, got me? So, your business _is_ my business, as long as we’re in the same town.”

I punch him square in the face, fuming. He stumbles back a step before I shove him. Shoving my knife into my pocket, I reach for the door and pull it open, desperate to get away from this boy who apparently can read me like a book. “Son of a bitch,” I hear Dean hiss behind me before he’s on me, pulling me back into the room. He kicks the door shut behind him, latching it and pulling the chain across. “What is wrong with you?”

His nose is dripping blood and I sneer at him. “Can’t take a girl in a fight, there, Winchester?”

He rolls his eyes, exasperated and pinches his nose. “Look, I came up here to apologize. That’s all. But if you’re dangerous, I need to know.” His eyes plead with me, begging me to tell him the truth, and I remember Sam.

I deflate, the fight going out of me. “Sam,” I whisper, and he nods.

“I can help, you know. I know my way around a gun too.” I shake my head.

“You have a brother to take care of, you can’t – you can’t be involved. It’s dangerous,” I say, wondering just how much to share. Dean shrugs.

“Sweetheart, you’d be surprised how much I know about dangerous.” His eyes tell me he’s not lying, but I still don’t know what to do.

“Dean, just,” I run my hand down my face. “Look, I can’t tell you much. All I can say is that yes, I’m involved in something dangerous, through no fault of my own, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to come to you. It won’t. If they come here at all, trust me. They only give a fuck about me as long as no one else sees anything. You and Sam will be fine.” I make direct eye contact with him, willing him to believe me. “I promise, Dean. I won’t put Sam _or you_ in danger. Just go back to your room.” I sit down on the end of one of the beds, exhausted. He eyes me for another moment, not sure what to do.

“Okay, but I’ll be back later. Latin homework, remember?” He smirks, all seriousness gone. “I have no intention of actually studying for this class. Plus, I already know Latin. It’ll be good practice for you.” He winks at me and turns around to leave. As he opens the door, he looks over his shoulder. “I am coming back, with Sam. Try to clean up, yeah?” With that, he’s gone.

_Fuck_. I fall back against the mattress and close my eyes. _How the hell am I going to keep them out of this?_


	3. Chapter 3

A knock at the door comes too quickly, and is followed by, “Serene?” Sam sounds timid and unsure, as if I might not answer or be here.

“One minute!”

When I answer the door, all the weapons have been put away and there’s no sign of anything along those lines anywhere in the room. My switchblade has been put away but somewhere I can reach it quickly. If that’s not good enough for Dean Winchester, he can go fuck himself.

“Sammy! How’s it going?” The young teenager grins up at me, Dean standing behind him with a scowl on his face.

“It’s okay, Dean said we were coming here to do homework, but I’ve never seen him do homework a day in his life. What are we actually doing?” Dean hits the back of Sam’s head as I wave them into the room, and I roll my eyes. Boys. “Ow! Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean shoots back, giving me a look that says, _little brothers, right?_ I raise an eyebrow at him and look around me. No little brothers for me. His eyes drop to the floor and he rubs the back of his neck.

“Anyways, yeah, I was about to do homework. I don’t know about Dean, but you’re welcome to join me, Sam.” Sam’s face lights up at the prospect of having someone to do schoolwork with and my heart melts just a little bit. He reminds me so much of me, but he actually has someone around who could do it with him. As we sit down at the table, I glare at Dean. “Thought you were gonna do your Latin homework, Winchester.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Fine,” he snaps. “Be right back.” With that, he walks out of the room and I can hear his boots stomping down the stairs. Sam giggles softly.

“He’s such an ass,” he says, still giggling. “I can’t believe you’re gonna get him to do homework. I don’t know if any other girl has ever been able to do that and he’s dated a _lot_ of girls.”

“Uh,” I respond, bemused. “Dean and I are most definitely _not_ dating, Sam. Not sure what he told you but not happening.” The kid shrugs, looking down at his homework.

“He didn’t say anything,” he mumbles and starts to write on his page, clearly hoping I’ll drop it. So, I do. No point tormenting the poor kid – he already has to have Dean as a brother.

Sam and I sit there quietly working for a few minutes, him on his chemistry homework, and me on my English. I’m waiting for Dean to get here to start the Latin work, but when I glance up at the clock, I see he’s been gone for fifteen minutes now. “Sam, where –” I’m interrupted by the door slamming open and Dean rushing in.

“Sammy, let’s go. Dad’s back,” he pants. Sam barely glances up at him.

“No.”

“ _Sammy_ ,” Dean grinds out. “We have to go.”

I tilt my head, trying to figure out what could be so urgent. “Dean, is everything okay? He can stay here for a bit if your dad needs your help with something. I don’t mind.”

Dean hesitates and I can almost see the thoughts running through his head, but then he shakes it. “No, he’s gotta come with me. It’s, uh, kinda like your thing, I think. Just different.”

Sam is watching us both as we talk, not entirely sure what is going on. “Dean?” he asks. “What do you mean, kinda like her thing? Should she come with us?”

“No!” Dean shouts. “Just – let’s go.” The door is still wide open behind him and if I shift, I can see a car that wasn’t there before. It’s a shiny, black, older car that looks like it’s well-loved and very well maintained. If I squint, I can just make out the Chevrolet insignia on the grill. As I do that, Sam gathers up his books solemnly. Keeping his head down, he glances at me from behind his fringe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. A very large man shows up behind Dean, a hand on an almost hidden holster. My eyes go wide and I instinctively pull out my knife and lunge for Dean, trying to get him behind me. Maybe he knows danger, maybe he doesn’t – I’m not taking the chance. But when I get him further into the room and in between him and the man, the man starts to laugh. Not a kind laugh, a menacing laugh, one that promises trouble.

“Dean,” he rumbles. “What the fuck is taking so long?” Sam has finally put all his things into his bag, but I put my hand out to stop him from moving forward. Standing as I am, trying to protect them both, I can’t stop Dean when he brushes past me to talk to the man.

“Dean,” I hiss. “What are you doing? He’s got a gun.” Dean has his back to me, but I see his shoulders move that indicate a sigh. He turns to face me and picks up his shirt slightly, where I can see a handgun tucked into his jeans.

“Yeah, so do I,” he says, looking very tired. “Sam has a knife in his backpack very similar to yours. I wasn’t lying when I told you I was familiar with danger too, sweetheart.” He looks past me to Sam, who’s been shifting nervously behind me. I narrow my eyes, still not comfortable letting Sam leave with Dean and the dangerous-looking man with the gun.

“Sammy,” the man snaps. “Let’s go. Got a job to do.”

“Dad,” Dean says over his shoulder, “give me a minute.”

My jaw drops, but so does my arm. This is their _dad_? Fuck, he might be the first man I’ve met that could actually take my dad in a fight, and not just through size either. He looks like he knows a thing or two. “Um, Mr. Winchester?” I squeak, nervous now that I know I just threatened their dad and they are the only two people I know in this town. He glances down at me and raises an eyebrow, telling me to keep talking. “Sam can stay here, you know, if it’s going to, uh,” I’m about to say dangerous but Dean gives me a sharp shake of his head as if he knows what I’m thinking, so I rethink my sentence. “Be a late night. He’s young, needs his rest,” I try to say lightly, as if I didn’t just redirect from insinuating he’d be placing his son in harm’s way.

Winchester Senior narrows his eyes at me, assessing. His eyes then trail around the room, looking for something. He then looks back at me and my knife, before nodding. Sam gasps behind me and Dean spins around. “Fine. Dean, let’s go.” With that, he spins around and stalks down the stairs. He gets in the car and starts it before any of us speak.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dean mutters. “Well, Sammy, guess you don’t have to come. You know the drill though. We’ll be back later; I’ll call if it’ll be too late. Serene, you _swear_ you don’t mind? He’s a pain in the ass sometimes – I would know.” I roll my eyes.

“Go, Dean,” I say. “We’ll be fine. Order in some pizza or something and do our homework. Get out of here.” I meet his eyes and try to communicate that I will keep Sam safe, I won’t let anything happen to him. I know that’s why he’s hesitating, and it’s what might make my change my mind about him.

Dean finally nods and gives Sam a look filled with meaning before he leaves, closing the door behind him. I look back at Sam, finally putting my knife away. “That was dramatic,” I say, trying to relieve any tension the kid might be feeling. Instead, I find him looking up at me in awe. “What?”

He sputters at first. “You – you just – holy crap! Dad never lets _anyone_ but Dean stay alone with me. Well, almost never. Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim sometimes, but usually Dean’s there too. How did you _do_ that?”

I smile. “Well, I did pull a knife on him within ten seconds of meeting him. Maybe he figures I’ll keep you safe.” Sam scoffs but sits back down at the table, no idea how much I would give to keep him safe.

_We’ve been here for a month before we get a break in the case. Dad’s interviewed everyone involved, we’ve cased out the scenes, talked to the cops more than once, but up until now, we’ve had nothing. It seemed more and more like this really was just a small town._

_Until_ they _showed up._

_Over the last few years, periodically, Dad has come in contact with one particular, very violent, gang. Heaven’s Warriors. Only, nothing about them is heavenly. From what we’ve been able to discern, they just like the imagery it gives them and the opportunity to upset bible-loving towns. They roll through small towns all through the south, peddling drugs, trafficking guns and young girls and boys, and taking over through bits of corruption, blackmail, and murder. At this point, we assume they have at least thirty towns under control._

_When they rolled up to a local bar, badges on their arms, we knew we were screwed. I was there with Dad doing some work over lunch at one of the tall tables, and because it was a shady bar, they weren’t all that bothered that I was very clearly not twenty-one as long as all I did was eat. Seemed to be pretty common in all these small towns since there weren’t many options for dining._

_They burst in like they always do – loudly, confidently, and assuredly. They know they’re powerful and scary and never seen to worry about whether they can get away with crime or not. All they care about is how fast they can get away with said crimes and move on to the next victims. We’ve seen the evidence of that, the remains of their influence._

_After most of them have been seated around the room, one more man enters the room. I know immediately he must be the worst of them because I hear my dad’s sharp intake. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Okay, kiddo, here’s the plan. I’m going up to the bar to order a beer and get their attention. You slip out the side door and head back to the apartment. I know that guy and he doesn’t know about you. I’m not taking that chance.”_

_I grimace and purse my lips at his plan. I don’t like it, but I get it. I’m well trained, courtesy of my dad, but there’s only so much a sixteen-year-old girl can do against a gun-toting gang leader. The odds are very much stacked against me. I nod tersely, and Dad goes to stand up right as a hand comes down on his shoulder. My eyes go wide and I feel an arm wrap around my waist and jerk me backwards off my stool. “Dad!”_

_The man belonging to the hand on his shoulder chuckles, low and deep in his chest. “Don’t worry, my dear, Daddy and I just need to have a little chat.” I can hear a British accent and know that can’t be a good sign. British gangsters taking an interest in small town America doesn’t bode well. He puts two fingers under my chin and lifts my face to his. “You’re too beautiful to harm. So, don’t make me, okay?” Taking my seat at the table, Dad’s eyes don’t leave mine. The arm holding on to me doesn’t loosen but it does pull me back another few steps until he’s pressed against the bar, giving them privacy to speak, I suppose._

_“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep ya company while they do business,” he growls in my ear and I shiver, but don’t answer him. I have no interest in engaging._

_While we stand at the bar watching the conversation, Dad’s face grows angrier and angrier, even when he isn’t looking over at me. He stands up abruptly, slamming his hands down on the table, and the arm around me tightens. I start to squirm, knowing if my dad is reacting like that, there’s a reason. The man he’s speaking to turns to look at me and winks, before nodding at the man behind me. He lets go of me and shoves me forwards to my dad. I turn back slightly to look at him, making sure this isn’t some kind of game, before I rush over to my dad. I throw my arms around him and he kisses the top of my head._

_“I’ll be seeing you, Carson,” the man says with a smirk, then nods towards me. “Sabrina.”_

_Dad takes his arms back and pushes me out of the bar as quickly as he reasonably can without running. When we get out to the car, we sit there for a few minutes before he starts it. “Dad?” I ask in a small voice. “What…who was that?”_

_He sighs, running a hand down his face before turning to look at me. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I really didn’t think they’d be here. But I think we’re gonna have to go deep now.”_

_“Dad, what the hell is going on? Go deep? Who_ was _that?”_

_“They call him the Devil. He started the Warriors, but no one had ever been able to give me a description. I honestly wasn’t sure he existed until now. But now he knows not just what I look like, but you too. He was trying to bribe me into dropping his case or reporting false leads and gave me forty-eight hours to give him an answer. Which means we have forty-eight hours to hide from the biggest crime lord in the world.”_


	4. Chapter 4

The night passes peacefully. Sam and I chat amiably about schoolwork, how many schools we’ve each been to, and which ones. Turns out we probably just missed each other a few times over the past few years. He talks to me about his desire to go to college and I show him which schools I’ve applied to. The whole time, I keep him further away from the door with his back to it just in case I have to get in front of him quickly. The door is bolted shut and the chain is in use, but I know better than to take any chances.

Fortunately, we are still in one piece when Dean returns for Sam. It’s late, however, so Sam has actually fallen asleep on my dad’s bed. I don’t mind because the bed isn’t really being used anyways. Dean knocks softly and I check the peephole before I even touch the locks. His father is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” I say softly when the door is open. “Sam’s asleep, I can help bring his things down to your room if you want.” Dean nods at me and moves to his little brother as quietly as he can. He scoops him up like he’s done it a million times before, and given that they also live on the road, I would guess he has. I shove his books into his backpack before following Dean down to their room. He lays Sam down on the far bed, furthest from the door. Their father is sitting at the kitchen table, a gun laid out in pieces, waiting to be cleaned as he writes in a thick book.

Winchester Senior glances up when the door opens and has to do a double take when he sees me come in behind his sons. “Dean,” he hisses, eyes darting down to the weapons. I roll my eyes.

“Sir, you should probably know, I have my fair share of guns and ammo in my own room. This doesn’t bother me, and I don’t ask questions,” I retort before Dean has a chance. I slip Sam’s backpack off my shoulder onto the other chair tucked into the table. The older man narrows his eyes at me, really taking me in.

“John,” he says, holding out his hand to shake. I take it and give it a firm shake, letting him know I’m not a pushover.

“Sa-Serene,” I stumble for a second, forgetting myself. I try to take my hand back, but John holds on, eyes narrowing further.

Dean comes over to the table then and puts a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Dad, she’s cool,” he says. John lets go of my hand at that but gives me a look that says he’s not sure about me. “Thanks for watching Sammy tonight,” Dean continues. “Sorry we didn’t get to that Latin. Tomorrow, at lunch maybe?”

“Uh, sure.” I have to force myself to look at Dean instead of John because I can see something in his eyes that my dad has too. The look of war, of pain, and of loss. I see it in my own eyes when I look in the mirror, and Dean has it too, to a lesser degree. Sam doesn’t. “I’m gonna go back to my room. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I leave the Winchester’s room and head back to my own, lost in thought. As I’m about to close the door to my room, Dean’s hand shoots out.

“You never did tell me why you have all those weapons,” he says as way of greeting. I look back at him, face blank.

“Neither did you.”

He runs his hand down his face. “Look, I don’t normally – I’ve never met someone randomly that might know what it’s like to live a life like this. I just wanna know what you know. Maybe we can help each other.” I collapse down onto my bed with a sigh and gesture for Dean to close the door and come in.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you here?”

I give him a grim smile. “Short, non-confidential answer? I’m running. You?”

He pauses, clearly trying to find a way to word his answer without giving too much away. “My dad thinks we might find something we’ve been looking for around here, something dangerous. But it might take a while. Where’s your dad?”

“Not running,” I answer. I honestly have no idea where my dad is right now, and we do that by design. He doesn’t know where I’m staying right now or what room number or school I’m attending, and he won’t until he returns for good. If one of the Warriors shows up or catches him, we can’t give the other one up.

Dean narrows his eyes at me. “Why?”

I shrug. “He’s going after the danger, trying to finish the job. But it’s complicated and we fucked up. What is your dad looking for?”

“Um,” Dean looks like he’s scrambling. “Look, I’m gonna level with you, okay? What do you know about monsters?”

“More than you would think,” I say with a bitter laugh, rubbing over one of my scars unconsciously. Dean takes a deep breath.

“I don’t mean human monsters. I mean, like ghosts, werewolves, demons.”

I blink at him. He’s completely serious. “ _What_?”

He grimaces. “I know it sounds crazy…”

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Not as crazy as you’d think, compared with all I’ve seen. So, what, they’re all real? And you hunt them, don’t you? That’s why you asked me if I was a hunter?”

He nods. I flop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. Just when I think I can’t be surprised by anything anymore. “You…are taking this really well,” he remarks. “Most people would have thrown me out by now.”

“What can I say, I’m open-minded,” I say dryly. “Makes me wonder, though, if we’ve ever gone after someone that was actually a demon or something. Might explain why they were so difficult to take down.”

“What exactly do you do?”

I sit back up and look at Dean, trying to decide how trustworthy I think he is. Then again, he left Sam alone with me and he doesn’t seem like the type to trust his brother with anyone. I sigh and push up from the bed to get the files. I keep them in the safe at all times, but always know the code so they’re accessible. I pull them out, flip through them for the big one, and put the rest back, relocking the safe.

I sit down on the bed again and face Dean with the file in my hands. He faces me, equally serious. “You can’t tell _anyone_ , not Sam, not your dad, what I’m gonna show you. I mean it, Dean. My life and other lives could depend on it.” He nods. I look down at the file and sigh, opening it to the first picture. “We’re running from this man. My dad is a private contractor of sorts. He’s been going after the dangerous people the FBI doesn’t have the time or manpower to spend on, but only in the background. He collects enough information and evidence as possible to pass along. So, we’ve taken down a lot of gang leaders indirectly, or given a lot of game-changing tips. Sometimes we’re just there to case someone, but usually to get information, and rarely actually interact with someone. We were in this town where shady things kept happening, but no one could figure out why. There seemed to be a lot of bribes going around and a lot of overdoses, things like that. About two or so weeks into our stay and investigation, we were at this bar when one of the worst gangs in the country walks in. My dad has known about them for a long time, but we were trying to stay away as much as possible. I barely even knew about them.”

I pause and hand the photo over to Dean, who gasps. He looks back at me with alarm written all over his face. “So, you know who that is, I’m guessing. He’s currently after my dad, and probably me. We got too close and he gave my dad an ultimatum – give up the case or give false leads to the FBI, or…you get the picture. If he didn’t, he’d probably kill us both. He did mention a bribe to make it seem less like a threat, but I’m not sure the money would have ever come to us. We tried to sneak out of town, but he had people watching us. We got caught almost immediately and they moved us into a suite in the hotel he was also occupying, on his floor. ‘To keep a close eye on us,’ he said. Fortunately, though, we had a backup plan. My dad would send in information that was completely false, but then I would go to school and use one of their computers to send the accurate info in. Often the right information was the exact opposite of what we gave, so the FBI started to make headway on the case. I was using a burner email and wiping the computers so it couldn’t get traced to us, but…”

“You got caught,” Dean finishes quietly. I nod, not meeting his eyes. I can’t talk about the next part yet.

“Anyways, that worked for about a month or so. When everything went down in flames, we had to get out of there fast so we went deep under and my dad is still out working the case, trying to finish it so we can live our lives again. That’s why I have all the weapons. I can’t…I can’t be defenseless. Not again.”

He nods. “Okay,” he says and gives me the picture. “I believe you.”

My jaw drops. “Just like that?”

He laughs, a deep chuckle that comes from his abdomen. “Sweetheart, I just asked you to believe in the supernatural. I think I can buy your story about a psycho gangster coming after you and your dad. Much more realistic.”

“Okay,” I say slowly and move to put the file away, keeping my eyes on Dean, unsure what to make of his easy acceptance. The last time someone believed me, it was because they were already in it, just on the other side. My eyes go wide when that thought crosses my mind. I quickly get the file put away and locked up, blocking the code from Dean. When I’m done, I face him apprehensively. “Now what?”

He shrugs. “We watch out for each other. You see something strange or someone trying to get into our room or following Sam, you let me know. I’ll do the same for you. And I can let my dad know.”

“No!” I blurt. “No, you can’t. _No one_ can know, Dean, I told you that.”

He tilts his head. “It’s just my dad, he knows more about defense and keeping safe than anyone. We’ve been hunting since I was four and he was in the marines before then. We can help you, Serene,” he says, standing up. He takes a step towards me, but I take a step back and he stops. “Serene,” he says gently. “I’m not your enemy.”

“We’ll see,” I whisper. “You have no idea what these men are like. If they…if they find out you know me, they won’t hesitate to hurt you. Or even kill you. They’re _ruthless_ , Dean. They’re wanted internationally and the CIA, the MI6, they’re all involved.” His eyes widen and he takes a deep breath.

“Doesn’t matter. I can help you,” he insists. “Let me help you, please. You’re the first person I’ve met that understands the life. Let me do this for you, with you.”

I eye him critically. “Only if I can do the same for you. I can watch Sam; I can help you too. I’m good with a weapon and better hand-to-hand. I’m a good asset, I promise.” Dean hesitates before putting his hand out for me to shake.

“Deal,” he says, and I shake his hand slowly. “I have to tell my dad something, though. I’ll just tell him your dad is a bounty hunter or something. He’s a paranoid bastard and you make him nervous, especially since we go to school together.”

I nod. “That’s fine. Um, can you go, though? I think…I just need some space, and some sleep too.” He agrees and before I know it, my room is empty and silent. I shiver, nervous being on my own for the first time in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my writing is kind of going downhill right now thanks to my shitshow of a life, but I'm really trying. I've definitely done more the last few days than I'm used to, in both fan fiction and my actual book I'm working on - thanks depression!!!
> 
> Anyways, love to read y'alls comments. I'm a little lonely, still not sure what I'm doing here, and found out this last week I absolutely cannot go home in the next month or so, meaning Christmas by ourselves in a new province. I haven't seen anyone in my family in over six months now and really needed to go home but Covid has gotten in the way. Could do with some virtual hugs that's for sure.

The next morning, I exit my motel room to find Sam and Dean waiting for me, the black Chevy no longer in the parking lot. Sam gives me a bright smile that I return, but Dean just smirks at me. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s get this show on the road. Can’t let Sammy be late for school,” Dean says as I catch up to them. I roll my eyes, already annoyed with him.

“I _told_ you not to call me sweetheart. That isn’t my name,” I bite out at him. He side-eyes me when he asks the next question.

“What is your name, then? I think we established it probably ain’t Selene,” he snarks. My eyes go wide and snap to Sam, but he’s not really paying us any attention. He has his nose in a book and is only staying on the sidewalk because Dean directs him now and then. I just shake my head. I’m not taking any chances. Dad would be so disappointed if I just gave out my name to the first hot guy that figured it out.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, telling me my dad is calling since no one else has my number. I don’t _know_ anyone else to give them my number. “Hi, Dad,” I say, a little apprehensive because he never calls me in the mornings. He has a hard time remembering what time class starts when it changes from school to school.

“ _Hey, baby, are you on your way to school_?” I can hear other voices in the background, which makes me nervous.

“Uh, yeah, just walking there now. What’s up?”

“ _You have all your school supplies with you_?” Translation: are you armed?

“Yeah…Dad, what’s going on? Where are you?” I stop walking, wanting to give my attention entirely to the phone call. Dean pulls Sam to a halt a few feet in front of me, far enough that they can’t hear me, close enough for us to keep walking together when it’s over.

“ _I met up with someone, got some info. I won’t be able to come back for a while, but I’m going to send you some money. It’ll be at the usual bank with the usual passwords. I just_ …” he hesitates, and I can hear the voices in the background getting louder. It’s not just a crowd – they’re yelling.

“Dad?” I ask in a small voice. “Where are you?”

“ _I can’t tell you that right now. You need to stay where you are, okay? No matter what. And if I call you again, don’t answer unless I also leave a message. It might not be me otherwise._ ”

My entire body feels cold. This is my worst nightmare coming to life. “It’s him, isn’t it? He found you.”

“ _I love you, Lettie. Never forget that. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you._ ”

“I love you too, Dad,” I whisper, tears making my voice thick. “I don’t…are you trying to say goodbye?”

“ _I’m sorry, baby. Be safe. You’re everything I have…_ ”

“And everything to me,” I say, then the line goes dead. I pull the phone away from my ear and just stand there staring at it, horror filling my body. He only calls me Lettie when he’s serious about something, when he thinks he actually might be in mortal danger. It’s almost become our code word.

I stay there for who knows how long before Dean takes my phone out of my hand and pulls me into his chest. He wraps his arms around me tight, but I can’t bring myself to wrap mine around him, still frozen in shock. He’s murmuring into my hair, but I can’t make out a single word he’s saying. “My dad,” I start, but he shushes me.

“I know, Serene, I know. What do you wanna do?”

“Huh?” I pull back to look at his face. Sam is standing behind him watching me with wide, scared eyes. Dean runs a hand down his face but keeps the other arm wrapped around me.

“Do you want to just go back to the motel or go to school?” he asks, looking genuine, rather than simply seeking an excuse to skip school. I ponder his question for barely a minute before I shake my head.

“School,” I respond quietly. “I don’t…I want to be busy.”

Both boys nod, as if they know exactly what I mean, and with what Dean told me last night, I’m sure they do. We start moving again, all three of us silent this time. Sam no longer has his book out and after a block or two, he gets closer to me and touches my hand. I look at his face to see him giving me a gentle but shy smile and I try to give one back, while taking his hand. He’s a sweet kid and this little gesture warms my heart.

What I don’t see is the little smile on Dean’s face as he watches our interaction, or the softness that comes over him seeing us walk hand in hand.

The entire day passes in a blur until I get to Latin class. Surprisingly, Dean is already there and there’s a bag of candy on my desk. I give him a small smile, touched by the thought. I open it as soon as I sit down, take a handful, and immediately hold it towards him. He smirks and reaches for his own handful, brushing my hand with his in the process.

Ms. Smart starts class in Latin and the two of us seem to be the only ones who can completely understand and answer her, so that takes my focus for the rest of the day. I hand in the extra homework at the end and she gives me a surprised smile. “I didn’t tell you to have it done for today, did I? I gave you some difficult stuff,” she says.

I flash her what I think is a smile. “No, you didn’t, but I didn’t have much else to do last night so I got it out of the way.”

“Nerd,” Dean mutters under his breath. I step on his foot as hard as I can, and he shoots me a glare.

Ms. Smart beams at me. “Wow! I underestimated how far you were in your studies! Okay, I have nothing for you today but I’ll come up with more for tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Sure, thanks Ms. Smart,” I say and push Dean out of the classroom. Sam is waiting for us both like he was yesterday and gives a bright smile.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean chirps and ruffles his hair. Sam scrunches up his face and bats Dean’s hand away, but I can see the love in his eyes giving him away. He doesn’t care that Dean teases him like this.

“Dean, you’re never going to guess what happened!”

Dean rolls his eyes to me. “What, Sammy?”

“We were outside for PE and there was a whole bunch of police cars out and then these really big, like, army trucks showed up. I don’t know where they were going but they seemed like they were in a hurry and then the teacher made us all go inside because he didn’t know either and thought maybe there was some kind of criminal out, but I was thinking we should tell Dad because maybe it’s what he’s looking for and then he knows the police are there but also where to go,” Sam rambles off. Dean stiffens noticeably and his eyes cut to me, lips pressed in a thin line.

“Sure, Sammy. Here, take my phone and go on ahead, see if Dad will pick up,” Dean suggests and pushes his kid brother ahead of us. “Fuckin’ kid, forgetting other people aren’t supposed to know what we do,” he mutters under his breath. I nudge him with my shoulder as we follow Sam.

“This is good, Dean. Maybe he’s right and your dad can get this all figured out quickly. No one else will get hurt,” I offer, knowing that’s important to him, but Dean just looks pained.

“Yeah,” he says quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. I tilt my head, trying to understand why he’s not as happy about that as I thought he would be, but then Sam interrupts us.

He shoves the phone back at Dean. “Dad didn’t pick up, but I left him a message. Selene, did you see the cars? I’ve never seen army cars before. They were so cool!”

I smirk and ruffle his hair like I’d seen Dean do. “Nah, Sam, I was in class on the other side of school. But trust me, I’ve seen lots of army trucks and they’re not that interesting. Not _nearly_ as cool as your Dad’s car, I can promise you that.” Sam scrunches his nose up.

“Dad’s car is plain, though,” he complains, prompting me to laugh.

“Trust me, Sam, _my_ dad’s car is plain. Your dad’s car is cool as hell,” I insist, trying and failing to ignore the pain I feel in my chest when I mention my dad. Dean glances at me over Sam’s head with a look of sympathy. “Anyways, uh, you guys got plans tonight? I gotta go to the bank once we get back, but maybe we could get dinner together?”

“Sure,” Dean says quickly. “Maybe I should go with you if Dad’s back, though. He’d probably let me take the Impala, save you the walk.” I give him a small smile.

“I could use the exercise, but if he _is_ back and you want to go for a walk with me, you’re more than welcome,” I say firmly, shutting the conversation down. I definitely don’t want Sam coming just in case, but I’m not entirely opposed to Dean tagging along. I just don’t want him to drive the car because it is pretty distinctive and if someone sees us, they could easily trace us with that car involved.

The rest of the walk back is pretty boring. Dean and I are subjected to Sam’s nonstop chatter about school and the other kids in his class and how these classes are different than the ones he’s taken at other schools, but it’s nice. It’s almost normal, and I revel in the boring. But when we reach the motel, Dean and I notice the same thing at the same time, or rather, the lack of something.

The Impala is not in the parking lot, which means John has not yet come back. Dean glances at me over Sam’s head and I just smile and shrug. “Don’t worry about it, Dean. I’ll be fine to go to the bank alone and when I get back we can eat, okay?” He nods tensely, clearly unhappy with the situation, but I made it as clear as possible without using the words that Sam couldn’t come and neither of us is going to just leave the twelve year old alone at the shady motel just because.

I’m a little too self-reliant to be that desperate for back-up. I dump my stuff in my room, making sure to grab my wallet and my pocketknife out of the pockets of my backpack before locking up again. I tuck the knife in my boot, my normal place, and my wallet into my pocket. It’s an old one of my dad’s so it fits pretty well into my pant pocket. When I turn around from locking my door again, Dean is standing behind me looking unimpressed. “Dean…”

“Cut the crap, Serene,” he snaps. “Why don’t you want me to go with you?”

I take a step back and frown. “I’m not keeping anything from you if that’s what you’re trying to say. I just don’t want Sam to come and after last night, I can’t imagine you’re supposed to just leave him alone. Dean, I can handle myself, you know that right? I’m not some damsel in distress.” He rolls his eyes.

“I know that. I also know you have a knife tucked away somewhere on you, which means this isn’t just a run to the bank. I’m not stupid, sweetheart,” he sneers. I take a deep breath and try to talk myself out of punching him in the face right then and there.

“Well, good thing I wasn’t asking. It’s none of your business, and for the _last goddamn time,_ I am not your sweetheart,” I hiss at him, pushing past him to the parking lot. I hear him sigh and mutter something under his breath before he comes after me.

“Serene, stop, that’s not…I’m sorry,” he says and that alone has me spinning around to look him in the eye. He takes a deep breath and pinches his nose, trying to find the words to explain himself. “Look, I just have a bad feeling about this, okay? Can you just, I don’t know, wait until my dad gets here? I’ll call him again and see if he picks up.” I pause to think about that for a second before nodding. Dean pulls his phone out to make the call, and three rings in, we’re both surprised when the call goes through.

“ _Dean?_ ”

“Dad, hey. Just checking in. You gonna be back soon? Sammy has something to tell you,” he says, conveniently leaving me out of it. I’ve already figured out that both John and Dean revolve around Sam and that using him is the best way to get their attention, which seems incredibly dangerous for their line of work. But who am I to make a judgement like that, I don’t exactly have any siblings.

“ _I’m about twenty-five minutes out. I got his voicemail, it didn’t make a lick of sense. You got any idea what he meant?_ ”

“No, sir, he tried to tell me about it but I was on the other side of the school at the time and figured it would be easier for him to just explain it to you when you got home.”

‘ _No, sir_?’ I mouth at him. Why does he call his dad sir? Dean just shakes his head at me.

“ _Okay, I’ll get a full report when I get back in twenty._ ” With that, he hangs up and Dean and I are left staring at each other in the parking lot. He shrugs.

“Guess we’re waiting twenty minutes then."


	6. Chapter 6

Eighteen minutes later, the Impala pulls up to the curb in front of where I’m sitting with Dean outside his motel room. Sam is inside working on homework, but we’ve been sitting out here mostly in companionable silence. John gets out quickly and nods at me. “Serene,” then turns to Dean. “Sammy inside?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he’s doing homework. Serene was gonna go to the bank, I figured I’d walk her there while you two talked, that okay?”

John looks between us before he nods once. “Don’t take too long,” he says before entering the motel room. Dean grins at me and jumps to his feet. I follow suit, a little less enthusiastically, I might add, but don’t hold him back as he starts off confidently.

It’s another fifteen minutes before we reach the bank I’m looking for. It’s quiet, nondescript, but there’s always been one in the towns we stay in. They just seem to populate rural America and so we use that to our advantage. The accounts we have with them are under false names and only my dad and I have the account number and passwords required. We have it set up so not even the bank employees are allowed to know the both the account numbers and the passwords. It’s one or the other. It makes it nearly impossible to break into or hack, making it a reliable way of supporting ourselves especially when things get rough.

When we get in the bank, I give the teller an ID card that doesn’t say Serene on it, or Sabrina. In fact the name it has is one I have never used so that it can’t actually be traced anywhere specific. I’ve been to banks all over the country with this ID, which would make it hard to track. And I do my best to never return to the same bank twice. I’m paranoid, but it works for us. Dean doesn’t even blink when the teller refers to me as Andrea, just continues to refer to me as ‘sweetheart’ or ‘kiddo.’ I can’t decide which one I hate more.

As I type in the password, I begin to feel a sense of urgency, like I need to get out of here. When we get into the account, my fears appear to be based in some form of truth, because there is more money in there than ever before. My eyes go wide at the amount and I freeze.

“Ma’am? How much would you like to take out?” Dean bumps my shoulder like I nudged his earlier today to get my attention, but it’s as if I’m moving underwater.

“Uh, just…a thousand today, I guess. Can I get the rest transferred to a different account? It’s my…mom’s, she has the bank card,” I explain, being as vague as I can. The teller nods and starts to fill out the paperwork that’s needed. When she counts out the cash, I fill out what account I want it moved to. It is under a different name as well, one I have only touched twice before, which makes it harder to track and almost impossible to link back to me or my dad. Fortunately, no one in small towns thinks to ask many questions, meaning I don’t have to come up with anything that might seem too suspicious.

By the time Dean and I are walking out of the bank, I have a thousand dollars in my wallet and several more in a secret account my dad didn’t even have the information to. He knew it was there and would tell me to put money in it, but he had no idea what numbers were attached to it or what name it was under. We each had a few things set up like that and it’s saved our asses a couple times in the past. Can’t give up what you don’t know, after all.

Dean hasn’t said a word in almost ten minutes, which is strange. “What’s wrong with you?” I blurt, still on edge from the bank myself. Something feels off and I know what it is, I just can’t put it into words. It’s at the tip of my tongue and I’m trying to figure out what is going on, but I can’t do it until Dean is talking again.

“What the fuck does your dad do?” He finally breathes out, a shellshocked look on his face. He looks at me with wide emerald eyes. “That was more money than I think I’ve ever seen in my entire life. What - why are you staying in that motel?” The side of my mouth twitches uncomfortably.

“No one thinks to look there,” I say simply. “Listen, did you notice anything weird back there? Not the money or whatever, but the people or anything like that? It’s just - I’ve got this feeling something isn’t right.”

He glances over my shoulder and his face tightens a little, before he grabs my hand abruptly. He intertwines our fingers with a bright smile in my direction. “You mean something like the tail we’ve picked up? I did notice that.”

I groan internally but try to smile back at him. “Yeah, that seems about right. How far?”

“About fifteen feet, max twenty. Tall, light hair, black jacket, runners. Sunglasses. And…yup, some kind of weapon under the jacket.” I blink a few times as he rattles all this off before looking back at him like I’m seeing a new person.

“Wow,” I say softly. “Observant little shit, aren’t you?” He chuckles at that and squeezes my hand in affirmation. “Okay. Okay. Well, we, uh, can’t head back right now. Guess we’re going for a tour of the town. We should call your dad and give him a heads up. There’s a chance they have eyes on the motel already if they’re here and that means they might have eyes on Sam and your dad too. Especially now they’ve seen us together,” I say, holding our hands up a little to prove my point. Dean nods and pulls his phone out. He hits his first speed dial and hands the phone to me.

“You explain, I’m not entirely sure I know what’s going on anymore.”

“ _Dean? Where are you?_ ”

“Uh, hi, Mr. Winchester, it’s Serene,” I stumble over my words a bit, already nervous about talking to him. He grunts in recognition so I keep going. “Dean and I are just gonna keep walking for a bit, maybe try to lose the tail I’ve picked up.”

“ _You picked up? Dean gave me a quick run-down last night, but what exactly have you gotten my son into?”_

I sigh, unable to divulge that right now. “I, uh, can’t really say for sure right now. We should be back soon, or I may send him home alone. I might want to keep walking for a bit longer,” I hope John is picking up what I’m trying to code into my words. “Not sure I want to go home quite yet, so Dean is being kind enough to indulge me. He’ll be home for dinner, though.”

I hear John sigh over the phone as Dean sighs next to me. Like father, like son. “ _Okay, you call me if anything changes. Sam and I will come get you if we have to.”_

“Yes, sir, but please, just let Sam do his homework. I know he has a lot of it.” _Do not bring Sam, he’d be in a lot of danger_.

He grunts again and asks to talk to Dean so I pass the phone back to him. Dean hums a few times before saying, “yes, sir,” and hanging up. He tucks his phone away and gives me a shit-eating grin. “You’re in luck, kiddo, we’ve got a friend in town that can help.”

We’ve been wandering around town for almost forty-five minutes, taking our tail on a wild goose chase, before a beat-up truck rolls into the parking lot of the park we’re walking in. Dean’s face lights up and he tugs me behind him as he speed-walks the rest of the way.

“Uncle Bobby!” A scruffy middle-aged man in an old baseball cap with a kind face climbs out of the truck and opens his arms to Dean almost automatically. They talk quietly for a minute or so before Dean turns to introduce me. He reaches out for my hand and pulls me close. “Uncle Bobby, this is Serene. She got to town the same time we did, and we hit it off,” he says as I shake Bobby’s hand with a smile.

“Bobby Singer,” he says gruffly but offers me a small smile as well.

“Serene Waters. It’s good to meet you, sir,” I respond. Dean’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand when I say this and I get the feeling it’s some kind of approval over my interaction with someone who is clearly important to him. “I’m very sorry about the interruption, we just got a little further than we planned.” A quick glance over to Dean shows our tail less than fifteen feet away, probably within hearing range.

“She had absolutely no idea where she was going,” Dean jokes, dropping my hand to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer. “Still there?” He mumbles in my ear, and I nod once. Bobby sees that and claps his hands together.

“Alright, kids. Time to get on home; your daddy’s been waiting on you, Dean,” he says loudly. We both nod and Dean leads me around the truck to get in the passenger side. As he does, I catch my first full glimpse of the tail’s face. I freeze when we make eye contact.

“Serene?” Dean whispers in my ear when I stop moving. “Hey, sweetheart, c’mon. Let’s go.” I nod, not taking my eyes off the man. Dean helps me into the truck and as we pull out of the lot, my eyes never leave the other man, just as his never leave mine. Just as we pull out of sight, he nods, just barely, but enough for me to see it.

I close my eyes and my head thumps back against the headrest. “Fuck,” I swear. “I am so screwed.” Dean exchanges a look with his uncle, but I’m barely paying them any attention. Anything they say to me falls away into a quiet buzz in the background as I try to come up with a way to handle this situation.

I wish my dad was here.

_Brenna and Callie, as it turns out, are cousins. I learn this about a week after starting school when I get invited to a sleepover with the two of them and Nadia at Brenna’s house. Even though she herself gave me the address, I still find myself standing outside the house, staring at it in shock, when I arrive._

_The house is three stories, with a beautiful, 6-foot fence all around the property and a gate restricting car access. There is a small fountain in the front yard and a beautiful iron fence around a second floor balcony. The house itself is a light brown and has almost floor to ceiling windows all around the main floor, except in the three car garage. When I get in the yard, I see a beautiful garden that’s currently being tended to by two gardeners who wave politely at me. I barely respond, still dumbstruck by what I’m seeing. In the backyard, there is an Olympic-sized pool (I think, I’ve never really sat down and watched the Olympics)._

_Brenna opens the door for me and seems shy all of a sudden. “I should’ve warned you about the house,” she blurts out when I get my shoes off. Glancing around me with wide eyes, I nod._

_“Yeah, maybe. I’ve never seen anything like this…” I say softly, taking in my surroundings. There’s a grand staircase in the middle of the house and a chandelier hanging at the bottom in the centre of the room. Rushing up to us to take my things, which weirds me out on its own, is their apparent butler. I stare back at Brenna with my jaw hanging open after the butler leaves._

_Her face is red and she rubs the back of her neck self-consciously. “It’s old money,” she explains. “The house was actually commissioned by my grandfather but he died just before it was finished so we got it. I have no idea where all the money comes from, but it’s why I rarely have people over,” she finishes quietly, waiting for me to react._

_“Why, because they’d expect things from you?” I can picture that, people who are shallow enough to value a friendship only while it benefits them. I shake my head and put my hand on her arm to get her attention. “Bren, I don’t give a shit about your money, I’ve just never been anywhere like this before. It’s amazing. But if you try to buy me stuff, I’ll hit you.” That gets a surprised laugh from her and allows her to relax._

_I follow her up the stairs to her bedroom where Nadia and Callie are already waiting. “So?” Nadia asks loudly, bouncing in her seat. “Did you pass? Did she pass?”_

_I lean over to Brenna and mutter, “Pass? Was this a test?”_

_She smiles brightly at us all and nods. “She passed!” Nadia and Callie both smile at me and gesture for me to join them on the floor where they have a board game I’ve never seen before set up. They figure that out quickly and spend the next ten minutes explaining the objective of the game to me before I finally think I understand._

_The game lasts for almost two hours and by the time it ends, we are all giggling uncontrollably. Brenna rolls over onto her side and looks at her alarm clock. “Oh, it’s supper time! I think there’s pizza, let’s go!”_

_I follow the three of them down the stairs, wondering where they ordered it from. Even though I’ve only been here a few weeks, I could’ve told them which places had the best deals, the quickest delivery, and the best tasting pizza (of course, no pizza place was all three, but you make do with what you have)._

_I was wondering that, that is, until I reached the immaculate dining room and saw several clearly handmade pizzas on round trays all down the huge table. The scent alone is enough to make me salivate, and I can only imagine what it tastes like. It’s so rare that I have a home-cooked meal that I am almost in awe as I take a couple slices and sit down._

_My first bite tastes like heaven and I almost moan out loud. The girls all laugh at my reaction, prompting a blush to cover my face, but that’s nothing compared to when I hear the chuckle behind me._

_It’s deep and condescending, dark in its humour. “Brenna, where do you keep finding these poor little fleas? I thought Nadia was bad, but this one seems like she doesn’t even know how to eat a proper meal.” Nadia’s face goes beet red and she stares down at her shoes while Brenna shoots to her feet._

_“Peyton, what the fuck is your problem? Why do you always have to come and be a complete dick to all my friends?” I turn around slightly to get a look at the guy she’s talking to and I’m surprised by what I see. He’s tall, with dark curly hair, and light blue eyes. His biceps show off light muscle and his shirt is tight enough to show he works out. He has a sleeve of tattoos up his left arm and an earring in his right ear. He’s staring down at me like I’m the gum on his shoe and I can’t help but roll my eyes at him._

_“Because,” he sneers, “it seems your friends can’t even be respectful in someone else’s house.”_

_“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath before pushing my chair back to face Peyton. “Dude, don’t ask for respect if you haven’t earned it. The very first thing I heard you say, ever, was an insult to me and to Nadia, so forgive me if I don’t exactly respect you. You’re a dick, buddy, I don’t respect dicks.” His eyes narrow when I don’t back down from my words before he huffs and walks out of the room. Brenna sighs in relief._

_“You gotta teach me how to do that.”_


	7. Chapter 7

Peyton’s eyes haunt me all the way back to the motel. There was no mistaking that face, not in a million years, and I can’t figure out what him being here means for me. Pulling up to the motel, Dean gets out of the truck first before pulling me after him, still in a bit of a trance. I can hear his voice somewhere in the background but it just isn’t registering. I brush him and his uncle off, heading to my own room. I unlock the door and shoulder my way in, only to stop when I see a body sitting on the edge of my bed.

The lights are off so I can’t see who it is, but I just know. It’s in the shape of his body, his scent, and the way he moves when he stands up to turn the lights on. As the room fills with light, I swallow hard, seeing him face-to-face for the first time in a month. I take another step into the room to let the door fall closed when I hear footsteps come up behind me. Still not taking my eyes off him, I call out to Dean. “Hey, I’m okay. Just go to your own room, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The door swings open. “Sorry, sweetheart,” rolls off his tongue smoothly and I resist the urge to spin around and punch him in the face. Instead, I wait until he’s standing next to me, gesturing at the other person in the room.”Who’s the - ow, what the fuck?” I smirk to myself as he rubs his upper arm after I punch him.

“Go back to your own room, asshole,” I snap. Peyton is still just standing there watching me and my eyes still haven’t moved away from him. I don’t know what to think about him being here. I don’t know how to talk to him now.

“Sab,” he breathes out finally and takes a step towards me.

“Ah, ah, buddy, I don’t think so. Who the fuck are you?” Of course. I roll my eyes. Dean to the rescue. He tries to step in front of me as if to protect me, but Peyton won’t hurt me. If that’s what he was here to do he would’ve done it without having to interact with me.

“Dean,” I hiss. “Back off.” He whips around to glare at me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is him, ain’t it? The one we just walked around for an hour to lose? Why aren’t you running now?”

“None of your business,” I retort. He throws his hands up in frustration and presses his lips into a thin line. Peyton takes another step forward and my eyes shoot to his over Dean’s shoulder.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbles. “Fine, I’ll just be over here.” Dean sits down at the table by the window and turns his back to us, giving us privacy as much as he feels he can. I huff but know that’s the best he’s going to give me. I meet Peyton’s eyes again and without another word, fall into his arms.

I’m already crying and he’s whispering into my hair as we grip each other. When we finally pull apart, there’s tear tracks on his face too.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in a shaky voice, wiping away some of my tears.

He gives me a small smile. “I’ve been trying to find you ever since you left. You didn’t think I’d just let you go without saying goodbye, did you?”

Against my will, a short laugh bursts out of me at that. “So you spend a month hunting me down to come say goodbye? And the day you find me just happens to be the day I get an incredibly ominous phone call from my dad?” Peyton’s face gets tight. “That’s what I thought,” I say softly. “Why are you here, Peyton?”

“They were going to send me,” he says softly. “I left first, though. I didn’t…I couldn’t come after you like they wanted me to. Not after everything.”

“So…why today? Did you know I was going to get that call?” Peyton shakes his head before I finish my sentence.

“I didn’t know,” he rushes out. “I got a call after you left for school from someone inside letting me know. They said he’d been in contact with you and they were going to track you using the phone call, but my friend said it didn’t work conclusively.”

I sigh, relieved. “Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to happen. My phone isn’t entirely traceable. It’ll get you within a few counties of me, for sure in the right state, but it won’t lead you to me.”

“Does your dad know that?” I nod and Peyton’s face relaxes. “Okay, good. Then you’re safe, for now. But they know he doesn’t have it, Sab.”

“Fuck,” I breathe out and collapse onto the end of my bed. Dean is watching the two of us with narrowed eyes, not entirely sure what is going on, but not liking what he’s hearing. I rub my hand over my face and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile before turning back to Peyton. “So what now?”

“Does he know where it is?”

“No,” I say vehemently. “No, he has no idea. That’s the whole point. If he knew, it would be way too easy.”

“And you won’t tell me, will you,” he says. I roll my eyes, giving him a side-eyed look that clearly says _absolutely fucking not, dumbass_. Dean snorts in the background and Peyton finally looks up at him. “Who exactly are you, by the way? This is a private conversation.”

Dean smirks at him. “Oh, don’t worry about me. Just here to make sure you don’t kill my study partner.”

“Dean!” I snap at him under my breath and he grins wickedly at me with a shrug. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Someone to spend time with, maybe?” He puts a finger to his lips, purses them, before shaking his head.

“Nope! Can’t think of a single other thing I could be doing.”

Peyton takes a step closer to him but I grab his hand first, shaking my head. “Don’t worry about him, Peyton. He really is a friend. Trust me.” He sits down next to me, still holding my hand. He starts to rub his thumb over my knuckles soothingly, like he did months ago. I smile a little and lean my head down on his shoulder. “I missed you so fucking much,” I whisper in a choked voice.

“Me too, Sab, me too,” he says lowly, resting his chin on my head. No one says another word for a long time after that.

_Not long after my less than satisfactory introduction to Brenna’s brother, I was invited back to her house. The sleepover had been a lot of fun, something I had never had the opportunity to do before, so I readily returned. This time, though, the circumstances were a little different._

_There were a few extra cars in the driveway, black SUVs with tinted windows, but I didn’t think much of it. I have a pretty good sense for people and Brenna has never struck me as someone I can’t trust or feel safe around. Of course, I had never met her parents, which was also not something I ever really intended on. She described them as vicious people and I had no interest in disrespecting both her brother and her parents based on how they treated her._

_When I enter the house, there’s a man standing outside what I think is the study (I got a tour last time, but it was very brief and there were so many rooms). He’s standing stock still and under his jacket, I can see the faint outline of a holster and gun. Most people wouldn’t notice it, but I’m not most people, and I have to notice these things. He glances my way and looks me up and down, likely appraising the level of threat I pose, before returning to his stare-down with the wall._

_“Sab!” Brenna hisses from the living room down the hall, poking her head around the corner. “We’re in here!”_

_Making my way through the house, I can hear a passionate argument behind the closed doors, that quickly turns into yelling. By the time I reached Brenna, the study door had swung wide open and there were two men storming out of the house, both of them armed. I glance at Brenna, a question in my eyes._

_“I, uh,” she stutters out, not meeting my eyes, “I don’t really know what’s going on.” She’s lying to me, but I’m trying to figure out if it’s important enough to press the issue before I push her past her limits. When her brother enters the room looking agitated, I decide to press it at a later date._

_“Bren, Dad wants to talk to us. Your,” he sneers down at me, “_ friend _can wait here.” I roll my eyes at his superior attitude again and settle myself on the couch, looking for all the world to not care about their family drama._

_Even though I have this inkling that my dad is going to know what is going on. Or will want to know._

_After they leave the room, I wait until I hear the study door audibly shut before peeking around the corner. The armed man is no longer standing there, so I assume he was with the men that stormed out of the house. I creep down the hallway as lightly as I can to press my ear against the door._

_“- and that’s that. I don’t want to hear any more excuses,” comes a voice I’m unfamiliar with, so I assume this is Brenna’s father. “Now, Brenna, Peyton tells me you have a new friend who’s been to the house. Do I know her?”_

_“No, Father,” she answers quietly. “She is new to the school, so we took her under our wing and she fit in really well.”_

_“Would you say she’d be a good fit here?” I frown at this. What does he mean, here?_

_A long pause. “I don’t know. I - it would depend on what you would need her to do. She’s not really scared of anything I don’t think. She’s kind of badass,” Brenna says and my ego inflates just a little to hear her talk about me like this._

_“But,” Peyton cuts in. “She was incredibly disrespectful when she first met me and I’m not sure that kind of attitude is one we want to encourage.”_

_Brenna scoffs. “Whatever, Pey. You came in the room and insulted her before you’d even seen her face just because she was enjoying the food. Don’t bitch about disrespect if you’re the king of it.”_

_“Alright,” her father says and they both become silent immediately. “Peyton, try to feel her out a bit more. I want to know if she would be a good recruit for the high school wing, or if we should start grooming for after graduation. Or if we shouldn’t waste any time on her at all.”_

_Having heard enough, I back away from the door slowly to return to the living room. Being mindful of my surroundings, I sit in the same place I was and pull one of the magazines on the coffee table towards myself and start thumbing through it, thinking over what I just heard. Peyton and Brenna enter the room together, mumbling amongst themselves before they both sit down, Brenna next to me on the couch and Peyton in the chair across. I can feel the weight of their stares before I even look up with a smile._

_“What’s up? Everything alright?” I ask Brenna, ignoring Peyton for the time being._

_She smiles back at me, shakily. “Yeah, just family stuff, you know.”_

_I chuckle. “Not really,” I mutter under my breath and Brenna shoots me a quizzical look. “It’s just my dad and I. My mom disappeared when I was almost a year old, and despite our best efforts and a lot of money, we have no idea where she went. So, just the two of us for as long as I can remember.” My mom didn’t disappear. She was taken, murdered gruesomely, left in pieces strewn over the country, but they don’t need to hear about that._

_“Wow,” Brenna breathes out. “I’m sorry, that sounds…lonely. At least I have Peyton and my dad and my mom, even if we fight a lot.”_

_I shrug. “Hard to miss what you’ve never had, ya know?” I can see Peyton watching me curiously out of the corner of my eye, and I wonder what’s going through his head. I turn to look at him directly and he lightly flushes at the attention._

_“So, uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you work? Or play sports, or anything?”_

_“No,” I respond, furrowing my brow. “Kinda hard to get involved in that stuff when you’re not sure if you’ll have to leave town tomorrow.” Oh fuck. Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t -_

_“Why would you have to leave tomorrow?”_

_“Just, uh, my dad’s work. Kinda takes us all over. Sometimes we get really short notice and have to be across the country in like two days.” What kind of job could be like that? How can I spin this so it’s not as suspicious?_

_Brenna scrunches up her face. “That’s horrible! What does he do? Why can’t he just pick one spot at least until you’re done school or get a nanny or something?”_

_I smile sadly. “I think he’d get really lonely if he didn’t have me, and his work is important. Besides, I don't really mind. I’ve been everywhere except Hawaii at this point, and that’s only because we can’t drive there.”_

_With that, the conversation diverts away from personal topics and I relax. But I don’t miss the way Peyton stares at me, or the intense look of concentration that is present more often than not for the rest of the evening._


	8. Chapter 8

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

I raise an eyebrow at Peyton, wondering what exactly he’s referring to because there are a lot of things I could’ve - and probably should’ve - warned him about.

“That you were leaving,” he clarified, still holding my hand while we sit on the bed, just a few feet away from the table where Dean is sitting. “I just woke up one day and you were nowhere to be found, your number out of service, the room empty. It was like you dropped off the face of the planet.”

I shrug. “That was kind of the point, though. I couldn’t let them know where I was going and I couldn’t warn anyone because they would find out and try to use that.”

He scoffs at that statement. “You know very well I can take care of myself, and if they even tried to talk to me, Father would have their heads.”

“I was scared,” I admit softly, looking down at the ground. “A lot of information came out and it seemed like we were in danger, you were in danger, but also like you might be involved or know what was going on, so I couldn’t take that risk. Not when my dad would be in more danger if I was wrong about you.”

Peyton narrows his eyes. “Did you actually think…”

“Yeah…I did.”

Suddenly, my hand is empty and Peyton stands up. “Well, if that’s what you think about me, maybe I should go. Doesn’t feel very welcoming in here. Call me when you decide who I am to you,” he snaps and all but runs out the door. Dean catches it from slamming after him and turns the deadbolt before turning back to me, eyebrows at his hairline.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

I shrug and fall back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling, worn out from the encounter with Peyton and frustrated with how life seems to be going. The bed dips slightly next to me and then Dean’s head is in my peripherals as he lies next to me. We both lay there and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes in comfortable, but slightly tense, silence.

Finally, I sigh. “I didn’t think I would ever see him again,” I whisper. Dean’s head turns sightly to me but he doesn’t say anything. “He - I know it sounds like he’s involved. Hell, he is involved. But I just - he was everything to me while I was there, you know? You ever settle in a town for a brief time, or what you think will be a brief time, and you find someone who could mean something to you?” Dean hums, letting me know he has, but he’s not going to elaborate on it. “I thought I loved him,” I whisper so softly I’m not sure I actually said the words but Dean’s head moves again until he’s staring right at me. “But I think he knows more than he says, and I think he knows where my dad is, because his dad is fucking dangerous. The Devil is an imported threat, but Peyton’s dad is a born and bred American mob boss and his empire covers most of the country. There’s no way Peyton is ignorant of all that.”

“The Devil?” Dean snorts. “What kind of mob name is that?”

“It’s the only one he has,” I say. “In all our years, no one has ever been able to tell us what his real name could be. He’s only ever been known as the Devil. He’s from Britain though, and the British don’t pull their punches. They’re _brutal_.”

Dean hums again and stays silent for several minutes while we continue to stare at the ceiling. A pounding on the door is what interrupts the comfortable quiet.

“Dean!” Sam is yelling at us through the door. “It’s Dad! We gotta go!” Dean shoots to his feet faster than I could blink and he’s halfway out the door before I can say a word.

“Dean, wait!” I call, stumbling to my feet to follow him. “Do you need help?” Sam’s face is fearful and Dean’s is tight, stress evident through his entire body. He looks at Sam, who just shrugs and when the light catches his face, I can see the pooling tears in his eyes. Dean looks back at me with a sharpness in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

“Stay here, Serene. You’d just get in the way,” he states bluntly before letting the door slam shut behind him. I stay where I am, reeling from his words as I listen to their feet run down the pavement. Moments later, the Impala starts up and drives away.

“Well, fuck you too, Dean mightier-than-thou Winchester,” I mumble when my senses come back to me. I slump into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and rest my head on my arms. This day, this long, awful, horrible day.

_We’ve been in town for a month when Dad calls me at school and tells me to come back to the motel as soon as possible. He sounds rushed, so I sign myself out at the office, feigning a migraine, and practically sprint back. When I get there, the truck is parked sideways, as though he just barely stopped before getting out, and I can hear him in the room, banging around._

_I open the door to see him hurriedly packing all of our things while simultaneously yelling at a tinny voice on the phone. “Yes, you told me that already, but I’m telling_ you _it’s vital that I speak to him_ right fucking now _. My life and my daughter’s life are on the line right now. Put. Me. Through,” he growls._

 _“Dad?” I say quietly from the door and he looks over his shoulder at me. He gestures to all the stuff and mouthes_ pack _at me while he listens to the other person. Knowing when to just listen without questioning, I finish up what he started much quicker than he had been doing it. He must have finally gotten through to the person he wanted to talk to because his voice has gotten quieter and he’s shifted to the bathroom to have some quiet._

_I’m zipping closed the last bag when he shuts the phone, turning to stare at me with a pensive look on his face. “Lettie…” I look up at him sharply._

_“You haven’t called me that in a very long time, Dad. What’s wrong?”_

_He grimaces. “They’re coming for me, baby. The Devil and his men. I think they finally guessed that despite me passing on their false leads, the real information is still getting around and they’re pissed. So you gotta go, and it’s gotta be now.”_

_“Just me?” I ask in a small voice, reminiscent of my childhood. “Why…why wouldn’t you come with me?”_

_Dad tries to smile at me to ease my nerves. “I can’t put you at risk anymore, sweetie. It’s now or never. He has men everywhere and they have their orders about me - but they haven’t put out anything on you yet. So we need to take advantage of that.”_

_I gape at him. “_ Yet _? It hasn’t happened yet, so you want to separate? Dad, that’s insane, you know that right?”_

_He runs his hand over his face and walks over to me to wrap his arms around my shoulders, pulling me in close. “I won’t risk you,” he whispers. “No matter what, I will not put you at risk.” I slump against him, defeated. Those words remind me how we got to where we are, what he lost, what he still feels guilty for. I can’t push him on this anymore without hurting him._

_“Okay,” I whisper back and bring my arms up around him too. We stand there for a long time, just holding on to each other before he finally steps back and clears his throat._

_“Okay, is everything packed? I’m going to hotwire a car for you before I leave, and then I want you to wait. Let them go after me first.” Dad starts to gather the bags that belong to him and he moves to the door. He gives me a soft smile. “It’s going to be fine, baby. I promise.”_

_He opens the door. There’s a shot. I scream._

I hear the Impala roll into the parking lot around two in the morning. I’m still lying on the bed in the same place, but I haven’t been able to fall asleep. There’s been too much running through my mind. So when I hear the door squeak open and slam shut, I get up and go outside. Dean is practically holding Sam up as they walk to the door of their own room and when I squint, it looks like Sam is bleeding.

“Dean,” I call out as I start walking in their direction. “Are you…okay…” I trail off as I reach them, seeing how pale Sam is, the blood soaking through his shirt, and the trails of red down Dean’s face from a gash on his forehead, and the way he’s holding his ribs with his free arm. “Holy shit,” I whisper, horrified.

Dean just nods at the door, asking if I can open it for him. I unlock it and hold it open while he guides Sam to a bed. After settling him, he turns to go back outside. I stop him with a hand to his chest, forgetting about his ribs, and he winces.

“Sorry, but where are you going? You can’t leave,” I insist and Dean shakes his head.

“First aid kit,” he breathes out. “Car, trunk.” I shake my head and push him to lie down with Sam, and take the keys out of his hand. Leaving the boys there, I get the first aid kit from the trunk of the car, ignoring the blood stains and other odd things I see around it in the car. Now is not the time.

When I get back inside, Dean is trying to get Sam’s shirt off, exposing the wound. I inhale sharply seeing how deep it is. He glances up at me with a grimace. “Do you know how to sew?” My eyes go wide. There’s no way he expects me to… “We can’t go to the hospital. There’s no explanation for any of this that doesn’t get Sammy taken away, or me in jail, or Dad in jail. I just…Sam needs help. I need help, Serene, please.” The look in his eyes breaks my heart, so I cave and sit next to Sam.

“I can sew,” I say quietly as I pull out some scissors. I cut the remainders of Sam’s shirt off him and take out some gauze to clean up the area. Fortunately, it’s a pretty clean wound, so it won’t be too difficult to sew up. Dean helps me hold him down when he starts to react to the cleaning solution I use, and I hand them both a couple of painkillers before I look for the needle. “You’re gonna need these.” I wait until they’ve both downed the pills before I start getting out the supplies. I sanitize everything with the bottle of vodka Dean passes me and when I’m done, I look up to see Sam taking a swig from the bottle. “Hey!” I cry indignantly, grabbing for the bottle but Dean swats my hand away.

“You’ve probably never had to sew up a wound on yourself minus anesthesia, sweetheart, but the vodka _helps_ ,” he snaps at me. I pinch my nose and sigh, but ignore it. Apparently, Dean’s DNA prohibits him from referring to me by name instead of ‘sweetheart.’

After cleaning the needles, I gulp, knowing I can’t avoid this anymore. The last thing I want to do is hurt Sam, but he’s going to be a lot worse if I don’t. I look up at Dean and he nods at me. “I’ll talk you through it if you need,” he says softly and I smile and shake my head, grateful for the offer. Sam looks up at me with his puppy eyes and I steel myself, hoping to work through his pain. To my surprise, though, he grunts when the needle pierces his skin, and then barely makes a peep after that. When I’m done, I see that Dean has been holding his hand through the whole thing, and Sam has it in a white-knuckle grip. Dean’s other hand is running through Sam’s hair and he’s murmuring to him. I can’t catch any of the words, but they’ve obviously helped Sam calm down.

“Okay,” I whisper, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Do you need any stitches or anything, Dean?” He shakes his head without looking at me; he only has eyes for Sam now that he’s back in one piece. The colour is returning to his face and his muscles are relaxing now that the wound is closed and bandaged up. Both boys’ eyes start to close slowly, so I pack up the first aid kit and leave it on the table before quietly letting myself out of the room, trying not to disturb them.

John Winchester is waiting outside when I close the door. He seems to materialize out of nowhere and I also shriek when I finally see him. “Holy shit,” I gasp out, kind of jokingly. “Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He just continues to glare at me while my eyes dart around, looking for anyone else. I just left the only other two people I know in this town in a room asleep, and I have no idea what John wants. All I know is he looks dangerous and I’m afraid. When he takes a step toward me, it takes everything I have not to take a step back in response.

“Who the fuck are you? And don’t you dare say Serene Waters, we both know that’s a goddamn lie,” he growls at me, and subtly pushes his jacket to the side to show his sidearm. I swallow and look at the ground.

“We should talk in my room, the boys are asleep,” I say quietly, not looking at his face. He hums.

“Alright, but if you try anything, you’ll be dead on the floor before you can even blink.” I shudder at his words because I’m almost positive it’s not a threat, but a promise based on experience.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo sorry this took approximately forever. I was really struggling to come up with ideas and worked 24 days straight - which, predictably, led to a complete mental breakdown. So!!! I'm flying home to visit my mom and my nephew next week (as safely and COVID friendly as I can) and im hoping to use some of the free time I'll have to do more writing

_The whole drive, my heart pounds in my ears and the sound of the gunshot echoes in my head. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is the blood pouring out of my dad’s chest and the pain written all over his face. My dad rarely ever shows weakness or cries, but he was doing both at that moment. I was so preoccupied with him and checking to see if he was okay that I forgot about the shooter until it was a lost cause._

_My throat hurts and what’s left of my voice is hoarse from screaming when they pulled me away from him, but that doesn’t matter because they gagged me. My hands are soaked in my dad’s blood, but I can’t even wipe them off because they’re bound behind my back. And no matter how many times they glare at me, my nose won’t stop running, my eyes won’t stop crying, and I can’t stop sobbing._

_My dad is dead by their hands and somehow that still isn’t enough because here I sit._

My hand shakes as I unlock the door to my room with John right behind me. He follows me in and locks the door with the deadbolt and the chain before flipping on the light and turning to look at me. He narrows his eyes as he leans against the wall, considering me as I stand in the middle of the room, eyes flitting around, wringing my hands.

“Sit,” he says. I swallow and nod, sitting at the table, still not saying anything. “Dean says it’s just you, but your dad is out there somewhere. Where exactly is he?”

I shake my head, and open my mouth to tell him I don’t know but he puts his hand on the table and glares at me. “Don’t tell me you don’t know, that’s not the right answer.”

“John -” I start, but stop. How do I explain what’s going on to him without giving everything away? “John, it’s complicated. My dad…I have a hunch about where he is, but I have no way of knowing for sure unless I go looking for him myself.”

“And where do you think he is?”

I look down at the table before looking back up at him, gathering my courage. “The Warriors’ compound. In, uh, Alabama.”

John stares at me, wide-eyed, before he exhales heavily and pulls out the chair opposite me and sits. “Okay,” he says, a little softer than before. “Okay. Why…why don’t you tell me what you know, and I’ll see if I can help.”

“No!” I shoot up from the table. “No, you can’t, you can’t help, okay? It’s - it’s dangerous and, and I can’t put a target on your back, on the boys’ backs. I won’t do that, John, I don’t care what you say.”

“Hey,” he says softly, touching my hand where I slammed it down on the table. “Sit down, Serene. I said I would see, I didn’t say I would go. I was in the Marines, I don’t know if Dean told you that. But I have buddies all over who might have some info or some pull with local law enforcement and you need all the help you can get.”

_By the time the car stops in front of a dark, two-storey building, my face is puffy but dry. I don’t make a sound as they pull me out of the back seat and drag me inside. They take me down a set of stairs and lead me down a hallway with enough doors to make me believe this is their version of a prison. When they stop to open a door and shove me in, my guess is proven right. One of the men slices through the ropes tying my hands together and then the door slams shut with a screech._

_I just stand there, staring at the dark, brick wall. In front of me there is a small cot and just to the side there’s a tiny toilet and sink. It all looks like they took the room from a movie set and I can’t bring myself to consider how much time I’m going to spend in here. It might only be a few minutes, but it feels like hours before I can make my arms move enough to take the gag out of my mouth and sit down on the bed. Curling up, I press my fist into my mouth to stem the sound of my sobs._ Never show weakness _, my dad always coached, but it’s almost impossible to abide by right now. I’m completely alone for the first time in my life, and I’m locked underground, at the mercy of I don’t know who, for I don’t know what reasons._

_A few hours pass before the door opens again and the first face I see is Peyton’s._

I pull out the same file I showed Dean and give John the same spiel, but this time, I include the part about my dad getting shot. I tell him everything, from arriving in town and becoming friends with Brenna, to meeting her family and overhearing her talk to her dad, to the Devil coming into the bar and talking (well, threatening, if you want to be specific) with my dad, to my imprisonment, everything. I show him the false information we submitted to the FBI compared with the correct information I would send in later. I told him everything I knew, but there were still so many holes. So much I don’t know, that my dad never wanted to tell me.

“Wow,” John says when I stop. He’s been looking over the file for most of our conversation, and his frown deepens every few pages. “I’m impressed, kid, this is some really good work. But none of it really explains why you’re _here_ , in this town, with _my_ boys. That’s where I’m having the problem.”

“It’s not as though I knew who they were or that they would be here when I drove in,” I retort. “I just needed somewhere small and off-the-grid until I could figure out where to go from here.”

John snorts. “Yeah, this is off-the-grid.” He shifts some of the papers around before sighing and running a hand down his face.

_“Come on,” Peyton says quietly, gesturing to the door. I can see another man’s shadow in the hall and look up at Peyton with tired, broken eyes and shake my head. He groans. “Look, Sabrina, you’re not going to get hurt if you just do what you’re told. They - we,” he catches himself, “aren’t monsters. My dad just wants to talk to you. Please.” This he says with a pleading face and a hand out to me. I don’t have much choice but to follow, so I stand but don’t take his hand. After an awkward second, he drops it and starts out of the cell._

_I follow him to the second floor, which is so white and bright with sunlight that I have to stop to adjust because it hurts my eyes. The guy walking behind me pushes me so I stumble into Peyton when I pause, and Peyton just rolls his eyes before continuing on. He comes to a closed door and puts his hand on the handle, but stops._

_With a serious look on his face, he warns me, “Don’t do anything stupid.” I furrow my eyebrows slightly at this, the most emotion I’ve shown since exiting the car. With a sigh, he turns the knob and pushes the door open to reveal a hospital bed and -_

_“Dad,” I breathe out. The shock is enough to literally bring me down to my knees. His chest rises and falls with stuttered breaths and the heart rate monitor beeps slightly off-rhythm, but from where I am, he looks alive. There’s a man in a chair next to the bed and upon hearing me, he stands and steps toward the door._

_“Sabrina,” he says brightly. “Why don’t you come in. We have much to discuss before your father wakes.” I glance up at him, shock clouding my thought process. I blink half-a-dozen times before I give up trying to understand and just look back at my dad. He’s pale, but there’s a little colour in his cheeks, a little sweat on his forehead, and he’s_ alive _._

 _“Sabrina,” Peyton hisses next to me, nudging me with his knee. “Get the fuck up.” Looking up at him owlishly, it finally clicks that I’m on the floor and that’s not where I am supposed to be. I stumble a bit when getting to my feet but manage to do so while keeping my eyes on my dad. Once standing, I glance at Peyton. His face is incredulous, as though he has no idea why I’m acting the way I am, and as if to ask,_ what the fuck are you doing right now in front of my dad and why _. Shaking my head slightly I meet his dad’s eyes with a frown._

_It takes a few seconds to go back through the last minute or so, but I come up with nothing. The man seems to be waiting for me to do or say something, so, eloquent as ever, I blurt out, “What?”_

_Peyton sighs long-sufferingly. He gives his father a meaningful look and his father nods in response. Nudging me to the side a little, Peyton backs out of the room and closes the door. I hear a slight_ switch, _telling me the door is now locked, as though I would try to leave anyways._

_“Please sit,” the man says, gesturing to the chair he previously occupied. Slowly, I walk past him, not taking my eyes off him for a second, and drop into the chair. I blindly reach out towards my dad and take his hand, needing something to ground me. My emotions are riding a rollercoaster right now and I have a feeling this is a conversation I need to be extra cautious with. “I’m assuming you know who I am.” I shrug noncommittally and he raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to elaborate._

_“I know you’re Brenna and Peyton’s dad,” I say carefully. “I also, sort of, think you might have been the one, well, not_ the one _, but the person who told the person who shot my dad to shoot him and then, you know,” I wave my free hand at the room. He smirks at me, amused._

_“Well, I guess you’re not wrong,” he says with a dark humour behind it. He pulls up another chair seemingly out of nowhere and sits at the end of Dad’s bed to face me, essentially trapping me between him and the wall and Dad. I swallow hard. “I run the Warriors. I would assume it’s safe to say you know who they are.” A nod. “Do you know our connection?” A pause. I scrunch up my face trying to think back to what my dad told me, before shaking my head._

_“I just know it’s part of his job,” I say quietly, gripping his hand tighter. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here, but I don’t want to lie in case he already knows the truth and hurts my dad because I lied to him. He relaxes in his chair, thoughtful._

_“So he never told you,” he asks. My eyes shoot to my dad as though he can give me the answer right now and back to the mob boss, and I shake my head. The man smiles, a real smile, and leans forward. “Didn’t you ever wonder about your mom’s family? Her friends? Or even your dad’s family and friends? The ones they must have had before you came into the picture?”_

_I frown at him and subconsciously shift closer to my dad. “I don’t…no, I guess not. W-why?” This time, the man laughs. A loud, obnoxious, room-filling laugh. I shrink back under it, terrified now._

_“My dear, we are going to have so much fun,” he says with a smile. Standing, he wipes his hands on his pants and turns to leave._

_“Wait!” I burst out, standing, immediately regretting it when he turns to look at me. He doesn’t say anything, just waits for me to finish what I was going to say. “I don’t understand. What do you want? Who are you?”_

_“I want something your dad has, information he knows, and anything else he can offer me. That might include you, it might not. We’ll just have to wait and see,” he says with a wink that fills my stomach with ice and knocks on the door. Someone unlocks the door and he leaves the room, re-locking the door behind him._

_I fall back into my chair, staring at the door for a few moments before looking at my dad. “What did you do?” I whisper, before leaning over his hand and letting the tears fall once more._


	10. Chapter 10

It’s been a few days since I talked with John. In that time, life has seemingly returned to normal. Sam and Dean have both healed, mostly, from their injuries and we’ve all been able to place our focus back into school. Sam and I do homework together after school while Dean sits around and complains at us, then comes back to my room after Sam falls asleep to do our Latin work together.

Ms. Smart has been really impressed with our work and the knowledge we’ve both shown and so continues to give us more challenging work to attempt. Dean complains, but I can see that deep down he enjoys this. I don’t know if it’s the challenge or that she sees his potential the way most seem to ignore, but he brightens in that classroom.

It’s brought us closer together as well. Most nights, once we’ve finished our homework, we sit and talk about anything and everything that we think of. He tells me about some of the craziest hunts they’ve been on and how they got into this life. I tell him about the ridiculous politics that plague the FBI, making my dad’s job a necessity, and about the time we got a flat tire right by the Canadian border and then got stuck in Canada for two weeks because we didn’t have passports.

He wants to ask, I can tell, but so far he’s left the topic of both my parents alone. He doesn’t know that I talked with John that night, but he knows something is happening that is completely out of my control and that I’m not handling it well. I’m sure he’s also figured out that, like him, something horrible happened to my mom and that’s how my dad and I wound up living the way we do.

But he doesn’t ask.

Until one day, Sam does it for him.

“Hey, Serene?” Sam asks tentatively one night. I hum in his direction, indicating he should ask whatever he wants to ask me. “Do you have a mom?”

I freeze. Dean inhales sharply and moves to stand, but I shake my head slightly in his direction, before looking up at Sam. I grimace, but figure it’s time they know. “No, Sammy, I don’t have a mom. She died a long time ago.”

“Like us,” he responds quietly, eyes facing me but not seeing me.

“Not quite,” I say. “It wasn’t a demon or a monster that killed her. And truth be told, after everything you guys have told me, I’m not sure which would be worse. I mean we all ended up in the same lifestyle, but…I don’t know, it seems like monsters make sense? Like there are patterns and reasons and signs, but with people…”

“People are crazy,” Dean supplies. “Dad and I have been saying that for years. Monsters make sense but people are nuts.” I give him a small smile at that.

“Yeah.”

Sam reaches out to touch my hand and, with his puppy dog eyes in full force, asks, “What happened?” I give him a little half-smile.

“You sure you want to know, kiddo? It isn’t a nice story.” He snorts and exchanges a look with Dean, then looks back at me meaningfully. I raise my hands in defeat. “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Lay it on us,” Dean quips unhelpfully from the bed. Rolling my eyes I gesture for Sam to get up and follow me to the beds. I’m not doing this in an uncomfortable chair.

Once we’re all settled, I take a deep breath. “So, a lot of this is from my dad’s point of view because I obviously can’t ask my mom, so I’m not actually sure it’s all true. But, my mom’s family was involved with the mafia in her hometown. They weren’t members, but they were, like, member adjacent. I don’t really know, I don’t get it. But anyways, my mom grew up alongside all these mafia kids, not really knowing how dangerous they would be when they grew up. In high school, she started to notice certain things, crimes they were committing, things she didn’t think were right. She spent a lot of time with her grandmother during those years and learned more about what is right and wrong than in her entire childhood. So when she graduated, she knew she had to get out of there.

“She enlisted. Went to Vietnam after her requisite training, came back a war hero, medals and all. But when she got home, things had changed. Her dad died while she was gone and her mom was basically a live-in servant for one of the boys she grew up with. It didn’t sit right with her, nor did she like the way her mom acted around them, so she moved back in. Her mom still had their house, even if she was rarely there, and my mom decided she couldn’t leave again until my grandma was safe and free, and then she would sell the house and get the fuck out of there. Of course, that’s not quite how it went.

“As time went on, she spent more time at the boy’s house with her mom and she heard more and more about their criminal activities. One night she accidentally walked in on an execution attended by half her childhood friends. The one who was murdered was a kid she knew from school. That was when they decided to keep her locked up until they could decide what to do with her. So they brought her to a compound where lots of the higher ups had offices or homes and kept her there for close to a year. While she was there, one of the higher ups became enamoured with her and he was the one who freed her.

“But it wasn’t really freedom. He moved her into his house, made her sleep in his bed, and planned to wed her when the time was right, politically. She was allowed out of the house, though, so she would go see a doctor for birth control, for fear of getting pregnant and becoming stuck with him. On one of those trips, she met my dad in a waiting room. They got to talking and she found that she really liked talking to him, so when he asked her to coffee a few days later, she couldn’t think of a reason to say no.

“Once she got there, though, it was made clear that this wasn’t a social call. Instead, my dad showed up with an FBI agent and proceeded to interrogate her as much as they could. He knew she was terrified and didn’t want to be there, but they held her mother’s life over her head, so what could she do? My dad told her if she could become an informant for them, he would do everything in his power to rescue her mom and hide her somewhere they would never find her. Mom agreed.

“They worked pretty close for a long time and that eventually turned into a romantic partnership instead of a working one. They fell deeply in love and she began to drift further away from the mafia guy. The day they finally got her mom out of there was the day my mom found out she was pregnant, and she assumed it had to be my dad’s because she hadn’t slept with anyone else in a long time. So, as most people would, they ran away. They eloped in Vegas and spent the next seven months on the run.

“My dad would never say this, but I think I’m the reason she died. When she finally gave birth to me, I wasn’t breathing and needed to stay in the hospital for testing and treatment. They were stuck there for three weeks until I was finally allowed to go home, but I think by that time, they’d been found.”

Here, I pause. This is the hardest portion of the story, so I get up to get some water to buy some time. When I turn around, neither boy is looking me in the eye. They know what’s coming.

“My dad had gone out to get some groceries and baby items before they left town, and that was when they struck. When he came back, both my mom and I were gone, there was blood everywhere, and a note: _You took something that was mine, I’ll take something of yours, plus an extra. Consider it interest._ We have no idea which one referred to me and which referred to my mom in that second portion. Regardless, my dad searched for weeks for us, bringing in the FBI, Homeland Security, and any of my mom’s army friends he could find. Eventually, they got a tip that we were in a house down in Reno.

“My dad got there in half the time it would normally take. They were waiting for him. The man was standing on the front step with me in his arms, my mom nowhere to be seen. He gave my dad two options: he could take me and let my mom die a long, drawn-out, gruesome death only to find out later I’m not his, or he could leave me to be raised in a crime family and try to piece my mom back together. Neither of which were obviously really great options.

“What the man didn’t know was the FBI was on my dad’s heels and heard every word he just said. Taking that as evidence of a crime, they surrounded the property and went in to arrest him. He had a small group of soldiers with him that took out six agents, but in the end he was arrested, I was healthy and safe, but they couldn’t find my mom. At first.” My voice breaks and I look up at Sam, tears shining in both our eyes. “Are you sure you want to know, Sam?” I whisper. He swallows hard but nods, looking to Dean for backup. Dean can’t look me in the eye, but he squeezes San’s shoulder in support.

“At first, they didn’t know there was an extra room. They searched the whole house up and down, but it was only when they went to interrogate the man that they discovered there was a secret room: a torture chamber, basically right out of a movie. It took a few days, but they were able to break into it. Once inside, the room was soaked in blood and various other bodily fluids and, on a table in the middle of the room, sat seven fingers, severed roughly from the body. Under the fingers, was a note. My dad has never told me what it says, something about nightmares, but these psychos knew exactly what was coming their way. They knew it all; my dad, the FBI, Homeland Security. So they prepared in the only way they knew how. They cut little pieces of my mom off, leaving them like breadcrumbs all over the country. They left photos and videos sometimes of them doing it.

“She lasted a long time. Somehow, through all the torture and severance of body parts, she kept surviving. In one of the last videos, she whispered my name, or so I’ve been told.

“They found her heart seven and a half weeks after they rescued me, and what was left of her body two weeks after that. The body had been left in the desert outside Reno, so it was barely recognizable after nature had its way with it. The day they found the heart, the man, the only man they were able to arrest and not have to kill on sight, hung himself in his cell. They never got any more information out of him, never got a name, nothing. He wasn’t in the system, had no recognizable records anywhere. He just wanted to be there when his game ended, and then he was done. And we don’t know why.

“We have no idea what his connections were to the mafia, who made the call, and my dad has spent the last fifteen years trying to make those connections. But, we had nothing,” I say quietly, looking at Dean to see if he gets the message. He nods, still not looking at me. “And, uh, that’s it. So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go puke my guts out as I always do when I think about this and then cry myself to sleep. See you tomorrow, boys.” I run to the bathroom, lock the door behind me, and immediately hurl into the toilet, tears streaming down my face. I slump onto the ground next to the toilet when I’m done, resisting the urge to continue to dry-heave.

I can see it all in my head. Peyton’s father somehow had a copy of the FBI’s file and one day when he was really angry with me, he showed me all the photos, so I can picture it vividly. I throw up again.

I hear the door open and close quietly and footsteps retreat from my room. I close my eyes, resting my face on the edge of the toilet seat, exhausted.

“Serene?” Dean knocks softly on the door. “I’m still here, just…” he trails off. “Open the door?” It feels like hours, but likely only a few minutes pass before I get the strength to stand up and unlock the door, but when I do, I immediately collapse into Dean’s arms. He holds me close and whispers into my hair words I can’t make out. But underneath it all, I hear it: “I’m gonna kill them all, sweetheart, I promise you that. Every last one of them.”


End file.
